Why it seems like only last week my 17 year old self was learning of his existence and wondering (a) how I would finish high school and (b) just how fat would I get and could I still go to hardcore gigs?
And now he is eight years old. Going into third grade this year. With a face full of freckles and a wild mane atop his head as he refuses to let me cut his hair at the moment.
He is so clever, but with a memory like a sieve. He can remember how to put together a 2000 piece lego set from memory but could not tell you what he had for lunch. He both drives me slightly insane and fills my heart with pride. He is the gentlest soul, with a serious obsession for My Little Ponies and a huge love for his mommies. He is a doting big brother to the little bruiser and proudly tells everyone "this is my little bro".
Happy Birthday my sweet big boy. I cannot wait to see what you come up with next.
No comments:
Post a Comment