Eleven

Eleven years I’ve loved this little boy.   

He’s filled our lives with such joy and laughter. He’s not a baby anymore (as much as I try to make him stop growing) and he’s definitely not a little boy either.  He’s grown into such a delightful spirit and quite the young man, even if he’s only eleven.  He makes me laugh every day with that quirky “tying to hide his smile” smile he gives me when I ask if he’s brushed his teeth.  (He always says he has, but then the corners of his mouth turn upward indicating a different answer.) He loves frozen yogurt, chicken nuggets and still comes in each morning for a hug with his bed head and sleepy face.   He listens the first time, does what we ask (ok, most of the time) and he has a creative mind that never stops….always wanting to invent or create a new this or that.  

I can’t believe he’s eleven today and that in a very short time will no longer be in elementary school. And before I now it he’ll be in high school.  How I wish he would stay young and little and want to sit beside me with a coloring book.  I know that growing up is a good thing, but he’s my last one, my baby.  

I hope he knows how very proud we are of all he’s become and the spirit he shines for our family every day.  He’s our goofy, wiggly, candy-eating guy and love him to death.

Happy Birthday my sweet eleven-year-old boy.  I love you from here to the moon and back.