He is a builder of Lego creations that knock my socks off.
He gets in trouble for tackling his friends at church.
He likes to make up jingles for commercials...he has a whole string of songs for Chuck's Seafood Grotto in Snohomish. I am completely unable to explain why.
One of the few activities he'll willingly hold still for is being read to by his dad.
He runs headlong into life (and people) but is deeply offended if he has to walk outside in the rain (even though I remind him he's not made of sugar and won't melt).
He'll talk anyone's ear off.
He is either deliriously happy and enthusiastic or really, really cranky.
He has more energy than caffeine does.
He is convinced he's my favorite child.
He can be very focused when he's using a compass.
Very focused.
Come on, look at your mother.
He makes me want to laugh, hug him tight and wring his neck on any given day.
He loves chocolate. A lot.
He is and will always be my baby.
He is the best Christmas present I ever got.
And today, he is eight years old.
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