In which my son turns eight…

Today we are celebrating Dubya turning eight years old.  Eight.  This is a hard number for me to wrap my head around for some reason.  It isn’t a milestone birthday.  It isn’t the end of childhood or the beginning of the tweens.  But this one.  This one is hitting me hard.  I don’t know why.

tootsie

This kid asks hard questions.  He tells stories that never end and have no real point.   He has horrible handwriting.  He is the king of bad puns.  He loves to dance.  He is really good at eating just enough to sustain life.  He is polite.  He has a strong sense of right and wrong.  He is a nerd.happyHe adores his sister.  He adores pestering his sister.  He idolizes his daddy.  He tolerates my shenanigans.

dressu pHe is a little boy one minute (Mom, all I really want is the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sewer lair playset) and an eighty year old man the next (Mom, I need a farmer’s almanac)!  He is a worrywart.  He is handsome like his daddy.   He is a ham.

cheeser

He is strong and smart and funny and a thousand other things all rolled into one pretty amazing kid. 

second

He is my son.   And I am so very grateful for that.

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One Response to In which my son turns eight…

  1. Libby says:

    oh, I almost got a little teary reading that! Dubya, you’re the first and we love you so. Happy birthday buddy! Have FUN celebrating the EIGHT years of life you’ve been given and get excited about the next :)

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