seven

My lucky number is 12. Not for any particular reason. It hasn't even brought me any kind of luck now that I think about it. Except for that one time I won $100 playing Keno one of the numbers I picked was 12. But I am not completely convinced thats why I won. I used to say my lucky number was 2. I like the number 2, it's small and kind of a cute number. I think 2 is simple - it's not lonely like the number 1, but it's  not always in a crowd like 12 or 24. I think the number 2 should once again be my lucky number - just because it's cuter. It's official.

What the heck am I talking about, you're wondering? I'm never sure and if you don't know that by now - well you might be in more trouble than I am! Sam is 7 months today and I started thinking about the "lucky number seven". What makes 7 so lucky anyway? I actually don't think I even believe in luck the more I think about it. So why do I have a "lucky number" then? Everyone is supposed to have one, right? That way, just in case there actually is such a thing as luck, you're safe. 

If there is such a thing, today I believe it. If 7 is the ultimate lucky number, than I witnessed that today on Sams 7 month-day. He woke us up this morning with a babbling, spitting, bubble blowing conversation that I believe he was trying to have with Daisy but she was ignoring him. He always talks to Daisy. And Elmo. The day continued with the usual weekend nap-fighting festival, but that meant he was awake to fill the Saturday silence with giggles. The kind of giggles where his tongue clicks to the roof of his mouth and no sound comes out but the smile is wide and gummy. The kind of giggles that spread like a cold - without the sneezing but definitely with the watery eyes. And sore cheeks. Everything about the day made me feel lucky. Snuggling with him at bedtime as he passed out cold before finishing his bottle which he NEVER does but because of the afore mentioned nap-fighting, he was beat! I took advantage of the snoring and snuggled for a few extra minutes in the glider. I remember 7 months ago today seeing that same little mouth scrunched up as his chubby cheeks press against my chest and how lucky I felt that day too. Maybe that means 9 is the lucky number. Or maybe it's 3 because that was March. Or maybe it's 10 because it's now October. Or it might be 214 since thats the number of days he's been in our lives. (You can really find ANYTHING on google. Brilliant).

I think what I'm realizing is that it's not the number thats lucky, it's just me. Every single day, no matter how crappy (and there have definitely been some crappy ones), there is something, at least one part of the day, where I can look back and see that I am lucky. Thats quite a revelation. Hmmm. I've got to run out now and buy a lotto ticket. . . 

My love on his lucky number 7 month-day :)