right now.

right now there are three little boys sprawled out on my pull out sofa.
One is wearing just pajama bottoms.
One is wearing a VBS shirt with plaid pants.
The other is my seven year old son.
Having spent the first part of their evening bowling, followed by breaking in a new wii game for the birthday boy, they are now watching Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.
I can hear discussions of motives ("he has a crush on her"), character analysis (she's weird lookin'), and plot development ("that's not gonna help"). A few minutes ago there was a lengthy discussion on the phrase, "what the." and how it's the beginning of a bad word.

My baby is seven. Seven.
He's old enough to know with absolute certainty that he wants to invite four people - Lottie, Lauren, Cade and Cole Henry - to his party, that he wants it at the bowling alley, that he wants a chocolate cake with white icing and "blue stuff", and that he wants Cade and Cole Henry to stay the night so they can "play the wii, watch movies and have donuts for breakfast."

He's seven.
And because I have to go be a cool mom right now that's all I'm gonna say about that. Too much more and I'll start crying. I doubt Mason really wants mom to break down into a "when did my baby grow up" crying spell...

This just in...
Cole Henry: Nothing is impossible!
Mason and Cade: yes-huh!
Cole Henry: No!
Mason: Finding God is impossible.
pause
Mason: He lives in your heart! You can't get in there!

:)