Friday, January 23, 2015

Elliott :: It's Great to be Eight!

Holy Moly!

You are eight.

I remember the day you were born like yesterday.  Well, I remember it as well as I can anyway.  Your dad however, I'm sure remembers every detail.  But, today you are eight.  It's great to be eight.  Eight is such a big year for a kiddo.  You have chosen to be baptized.  You get to join cub scouts.  You are big enough to ride in the front seat, sometimes.

There are a few things however, that you do not do.  You do not give hugs.  You do not hold my hand.  You do not hesitate to make fun of me, and nearly shoot milk out your nose at the dinner table when I say something obnoxious to Quinn or Wyatt.

There are days, #1 boy of mine, where I'm really not sure that little chubby kid I knew so well disappeared to.  I miss that goofy little boy, but am so happy to watch you turn into the big kid that you are turning in to.

You are kind.
You are sincere and often wear your emotions on your sleeve.
You giggle like a little girl.
You take care of those who are younger than you.
You are mean to your brother, but only generally when he deserves it.
You speak Spanish.
You are athletic playing soccer and baseball and basketball and are a pretty good swimmer, too.
You are great at math.
You are creative and love to draw and write stories.
You "over listen" in just about every situation and really try to be a grown-up.
You can do flips on the trampoline even though I told you not too and even though you think I don't know.
You make friends with everyone and are a pretty popular kid.
You are analytic and deliberate and think everything through, needing a plan just as much as your mom and dad.
You are patient with Quinn.
You can open the garage and start the car every morning before school.
You can cook dinner, even barbecue.
You love to dance and aren't too embarrassed when I come to school to help with PE.
You are funny and clever.
You tuck your shirt in too tight and pull your pants up too high, but always have cool socks and cool kicks.
You will never wear a coat.
You like to hang out with the adults.
You remind me of all the things I forgot to do.
You love to play video games and collect cards (Pokemon, basketball, baseball).
You are great at sleeping in.

Really, boy of mine, whenever I think of you, I think of you being happy.  Very rarely, are you upset or grouchy but instead, you are happy nearly all of the time.  Your goofy laugh is a bit contagious and it's fun to watch you get everyone else going at dinner every night.  You laugh, then Wyatt, then dad...always laughing at Quinn.  Sometimes, your jovial nature gets the better of you, but I guess that's okay, too.

I love that now, as an eight year old, we can have real conversations.  You are generally pretty tight lipped about school and your friends, but every once in a while when you need a good hug, or a good chat, or decide to ride with me to the grocery store, we have great conversations.  I tell you things about when I was a kid, and you tell me what happened at school, like when that strange kid got his apple out of the garbage can and ate it - and also got out some stale french fries and ate those.

Or sometimes lately, I find that I'll be standing or sitting talking to someone else and you slide right up next to me.  You don't say a word, and might not even know you are doing it, but you put yourself just so - waiting for me to rub your buzzed head, rest my hand on your shoulder, or give you a squeeze.  Those moments, make being your mom the best.  It reminds me of when I was a little girl and on Sunday nights, I would sit on the floor, right in front Grandma Huber's chair and if I situated myself just right, she would comb her fingers through my hair.  I loved that, and I love that you let me have those quiet little moments with you, too.

I love you kiddo!

Happy Birthday.

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