No really, I'm okay. I'm also a great liar.

miraculously (seventeen years old)

Finn's seventeenth birthday comes faster than any of us expected.

We have seventeen Polaroids now, one taken every March second.

After Annabelle's light goes off and she puts the black picture on the counter to develop, Finn pulls the both of us into a sudden but strong hug.

"I'm really glad you two are my parents."

And I can feel a little wetness on my hair (he's passed me last month and just keeps growing; it's really jarring to look at your child and have them be taller than you, and I kind of tear up every time I think about it).

I pull back, and Annabelle pinches his cheeks. He scrunches up his nose, but doesn't really look annoyed.

"We're glad you're our son," I say, at the same time that Annabelle says "I remember when you used to cry whenever we lit the candles on your birthday cake," with a mischievious smile.

Finn pouts. "Momma!"

Annabelle just giggles, and pulls me into one side, Finn and the other. "I can't believe you're taller than Haze now. Soon there will be none left that are shorter than her."

"M'kay, yeah," I interject. "Let us perhaps not talk about the fact that my son's taller than me."

"It's not like it's a big deal, Mom," he says, and his grin is so like Annabelle's that I feel a bit dazed. "I'm in the vast majority now."

"Y'all are impossible," I say, rolling my eyes and wandering into the kitchen.

a/n: ik i said this like what thirty chapters ago but this is probably going to end really soon :,(