My son turned 8 years old Feb. 3rd, and I'm still getting my head around it. In a couple of years he'll be a tween. He's closer to adolescence than infancy. He's a sweet child who loves his baby brother, tolerates his younger sister much more than we expected, and still likes to cuddle with his parents.
The week of his birthday, E and I went to see "Percy Jackson" in our continuing effort to "read it, then see it." As we left the parking lot and walked toward the theater, he held my hand, looked up at me, and said "I love you Mama."
I don't know how much longer boys (or kids in general) do that -- hold hands with their moms and proclaim their love in public -- so I consciously savored the moment and decided 8 was off to a great, great start.