Eight

Last night, as I stood staring at my little boy asleep in the top bunk, a tear (or two...) came to my eye. It was the last time I would look at my seven-year-old. Because this morning, when we woke up, he was eight.

Eight is a really big deal. We believe it is the age of accountability, when a child is no longer completely dependent on mom and dad to make every decision, but can start to make some of those decisions on his own. He will now be accountable for the choices he makes.

While there is obviously a lot of teaching and guiding left to do - and many years to continue doing it - it's pretty important that by age eight a child has a basic knowledge of right and wrong and of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

As I looked at my baby lying there in bed, I questioned whether I've taught him what he needs to know by this point. Does he know how much his Savior loves him? Does he know what He has asked of him? And how to follow Him? Is he ready to take on the consequences of his actions? Is he ready to make promises to his Heavenly Father? And to keep them?

As I looked at my baby lying there in bed, I knew that he is ready. (I may not be, but he is!) He is a good boy. He knows his Savior. He knows the commandments and he knows where (and who) to look for the way to follow Him. He wants to do right. And really, what more can there be?

I love this little boy. He drives me nuts and he makes my heart sing. He is brilliant. He is funny. He is kind and compassionate. And honest. He is an artist. He is a writer and a story teller. He is thoughtful. He is loud. He is an athlete. He is my first-born, my little boy. And I can't imagine life without him.

Thanks for being born, Jake. You're going to do great at being eight!