Boy. Despite best efforts to keep you small you're more than half-way to adulthood. You no longer fall for the "take care of mommy" trick to have you to hold my hand in parking lots. Middle school's around the corner, the thought of which makes me ache. You arrived eleven years ago today and the world became a little brighter.
You're a sports-crazed, candy-loving, upbeat, guitar player. Although you're on the run in perpetual motion, I know just where to find you. Open hearted, beneath a golden mop. Happy Birthday, sweet guy.