It’s the eve of your 12th birthday and your mom is a super-blogger-slacker. I couldn’t let the year pass without noting its significance.
You’re the kid we weren’t supposed to have. You’re also the kid who had such violent seizure we weren’t sure you’d survive. Not only did you survive, you came home weighing almost 10 oz more than you did when you were born.
You’re the kid that climbed a chain-link fence at the gentle age of 2 to get some gum out of the car. You’re the kid that never talked in 3 word sentences. When we asked where you got the fruit snacks, you said “i couldn’t find a grown up so i asked myself and i said it was ok”.
thing 1 (when he still had a tiny bit of baby fat)
You’ve told me that my diets don’t seem to work, that we need to return your baby brother to the hospital before someone missed him. You’ve ratted yourself out before we could catch you. You’ll argue with a brick.
You’ve built a model black hole and an kickin Samuel Adams project. Just yesterday, you completed a super awesome mobile phone/string art project complete with jokes, facts, and a gameshow opportunity. You’ve built numerous businesses- including selling hose water to the roofers working next door and “crystals” to the early morning walkers. You helped define a new anti-bullying program at IHE and you’ve remained true to your friends even when you got your feelings hurt. You kicked elementary school’s butt and are working on middle school now.
Think of the children…
We argue. We frustrate one another. We butt heads.
Until you spent a weekend in a batcave in the middle of Newton County.
Then i started to see changes.
A gentler, more reflective manchild. One who opens his arms more and accepts the mom hugs. Its like you started changing overnight and i find myself torn between this age of maturity and longing for the wildness of your childhood. You get the jokes now and you’re so funny.
You’re so loving and kind and super adorbs and handsome. Your heart is bigger than your vocabulary. You’re so quick to offer a helping hand or an awkward pat. And i realize that it means you’re growing up and becoming more responsible and that all that churchin that Ms Rhonda, the Wiselys and Mr Iggy invested prepared you for Mr Bobby, Mr Jerm, and Mr Charlie.
Youve got so much more figured out at your age than i ever did. I barely knew my name and more importantly, which hair barrettes i would wear. You’re secure in your faith and in running after Christ. You lead without making waves and love fiercely. Youre steadfast in your beliefs and in your passion for baseball, your friends, your education.
Happy birthday, Chief. I love you more than all the stars in the sky and all the chocolate on the earth. But I’m keeping you as a child for this last year and will try to remember to slow down enough to enjoy it before you officially become a “teen”.