Mushy gushy letters

• Today is my last day of having a 6 year old. 7 feels old to me - so different than 6. 6 was still a baby, and this is no baby.
• He asked this morning what I was getting him for his birthday. We were standing in front of the saltwater tank we got for him when he asked it. My eyes almost didn't see straight after they rolled so far back into my head.
• Since he's star student this week, there are assignments for us each day. Yesterday, he went over his poster all about him (the one that says he's going to be a brewmaster) and today he gets to read one of his favorite books (Harry the Dirty Dog) to the class.
• Tomorrow we are supposed to send a letter, poem or story in a sealed envelope to class with him for the teacher to read out loud in front of everyone. We, of course, wrote the C-manakin and Harry Chewbarka Jedi story with him saving his parents with his bravery. We, of course, have repeatedly tortured him by saying we wrote a super "mushy gushy" letter. He's mortified.
• When I asked what kinds of things other parents wrote, because I'd feel bad if I embarrassed him, he responded, "Don't worry, I'll handle it. I'll just tell them that's how much you love me or make something up. I'll handle it."
• My 7 year old is already "handling" me. Oh boy.