Seven is Hard

Dedicated to the author's youngest son

Being seven is hard,

I hope you know.

Your mind is still small

But your body has grown.

And you’re not a cute little toddler anymore

But you’re too small to follow your brother and his friends when they walk to the store.

And you don’t get invited to the parties your sister does.

You don’t get fussed over like your baby sister does.

Everything you know, the big people already learned.

You aren’t very fast, and you aren’t very strong, You can’t win the games and you can’t read the words as fast as the bigger kids around you.

They leave you behind with the other sevens

Who couldn’t keep up and didn’t win.

Seven is hard.

Seven is a time for learning the hard way, too.

Seven is “hang up your towel!” Every day of your life.

Seven is “don’t slam the door!”

Seven is “fix your shirt” and “brush your teeth!”

Seven is “let me show” and “now you can do this”

Seven is prep time-

Soon you’ll be eight, and then twelve and then fifteen and twenty- And you will be as fast and as strong as the rest And you’ll sit with the grownups (it won’t be as fun as you thought) And you’ll win the games, and you lose some on purpose- And no one will tell you to hang up your towel and to not slam a door and you’ll look in the mirror to check your buttons before you leave in the morning and you’ll brush your teeth without any warnings- You will.

I promise.

But first you have to be seven.