Elliott is NINE!

Happy Birthday, Elliott!

Let me start by saying that I thought EIGHT, was your best year ever, but NINE?  Holy cow, it's going to be huge.  As I think about the last year, I really can only think about how much I loved you being eight.  In your eighth year, you and I became friends again.  We didn't fight as much, or yell at each other like we used to.  You like to talk to me, you like to show me the things that you've drawn, or made, or built in Mine Craft.  You ask me really hard science questions in the car.  And, if I'm really lucky, you'll sit next to me on the couch, on purpose, and sort of try to sneakily lay your head on my shoulder.  That, my boy, makes my day.

Eight was also the year of texting!  Heaven help us that you bought your own ipod and can text Grandma and Dad whenever you feel like it.  And, with the fit bit and accompanying app you got for Christmas, you can text me, too.

You are growing up so fast.  You are getting so mature.  You are smart and talented and have a lot of friends and kids that look up to you.  You have great hair, do your homework, are a terrible speller, and make your bed every day without me having to remind you.  You survived a butt-head baseball coach in the spring, had a great fall soccer season and you even, all on your own, decided to join the band and have become quite a good trombone player.

I love to have your help in the kitchen, and with your brothers.  It made me so happy a couple of weeks ago when the car died and I had to go and rescue dad,  that I knew I could trust you to be in charge at home, just you and the boys.  I was only gone 20 minutes, but that was a big deal and I was so proud of you for being in charge.  Though there are occasional lapses in thinking, you are so responsible and careful.  Your dad and I always tell you that, because, like us, you are the first born, there is a lot of pressure on your shoulders to blaze the trail for your brothers, do the most jobs in the house, and to be an example.  Elliott, you do all those things and more.  We are lucky to be your parents, and your brothers are lucky to have you.

You earned your Wolf in cub scouts months ago and were so excited to start with the bear group this week.  You are always whistling lately.  Let's face it, it can be a bit annoying, but at least you whistle good tunes.  You will only wear skinny jeans.  It's your thing now.  The best skinny jeans also happen to be the most expensive - we can no longer buy you clothes at kid stores - they now must come from the Gap.  For such a skinny kid, there never seems to be enough food for you to eat, and eat you do - some days all day long.  You love your grandmas, and any time you can hang out with grandparents far trumps time with mom and dad, especially if said grandma time is without your parents.  And, like your dad, just in the last few months or so, you are passionate about music and the Wombats is your new favorite band, like your dad.

It's fun to watch you get nervous.  When you get nervous, you talk.  You talk A LOT!  You plot and plan and repeat things over and over again.  Grandma and I were talking a little while ago and think that when that #1 uncle of yours appears at the airport in a few short weeks you might just melt into a puddle of goo and we will have to mop you up and put you back together.  I cannot wait for your best buddy to get home and see how grown up you are.  You will blow Willie's mind.

I love you #1 son.  Forever and ever.  Even if you wipe boogers on the wall.