Saturday. Basketball game. Haircut. Starbucks. He likes the peppermint hot chocolate. He is ten years old for two more months. He is so much fun to hang out with.
He is smart, goofy, intense, playful, compassionate, generous, and more awesome things. His sisters drive him crazy. He drives his sisters crazy. Though in all of the craziness I can tell that he will be a strong force in their lives always. He has a shadow and her name is Eva.
I can still see the scar from the time
the bathroom faucet tore into his head, just above his left eye. Technically, his eyes are brown but you have never seen his brown before. He has this citrine smoky quartz crystal color variation that, when he engages you, is hard to look away from.
He is adorable.
He still lets me hold his hand in public places. He tells me that this will never end, but I know it will. He has fat little boy hands. You might not say that, but I have three other children with skinny little girl hands. I love those hands. I am proud of those hands. He works hard and plays hard with those fat, boy hands.
He loves sports. He is athletic. He has boundless energy. He is a team player, you'd want him on your team. Just this morning I complimented him on his great passing instincts in basketball. He shares. He throws his share of baskets too. This isn't to say he isn't a gamer. He is a gamer. He loves his Xbox, and whatever else he can get his chunky hands on. He would like to be more of a gamer but I make it my job that that he isn't. I throw him to the curb for basketball with the neighbor kids at every opportunity.
He is a 5th grader, he does well in school. I am proud of him. He speaks two languages. He is responsible but
often, he
occasionally needs a little push. He has been in trouble at school only a few times. He doesn't like to be pushed or threatened or for you to cut in front of him in the tetherball line. He is a loyal friend. He values his friendships in a sincere ten year old boy way.
He is a loving son. The deepest part of my heart is full up with his goodness and his mischievousness and his love. He becomes very affectionate at bedtime. He is an early to bed early to rise kind of guy. At bedtime his affection for me flows out like a river and I do my very best to return every sweet sentiment with one equally grand, though he insists it's not possible and laughs sweetly, knowingly, when I say yes it is. I know that this too will end, too soon. The ebb of life gives and takes away again. But, I'll remember. He won't always be little, but he will always be my boy. And he will always be awesome.
