Happy 8th Birthday, A!

Dear A,

Dude. I can't believe you're eight years old. Six is still young, and even seven is still little boy-ish, but eight is the big time. Eight is practically pre-teen.

Your brain continues to amaze me. You mastered your electrical circuit set almost immediately. I can't stump you on geography anymore because you have maps you've made of all the continents all over your room. You remember practically everything you've ever learned. You were particularly into the Greek Gods this year after reading the "Percy Jackson" books. In fact, you told us once that you thought the story of Jesus was a myth and you preferred to believe in the Greek Gods, since the Greeks thought their gods were just as real as we think our God is.

When Benjamin decided he wanted to grow up to have his own store that sold only holiday merchandise, you advised him not to have a whole room for certain holidays because some weren't celebrated by many people: "Like St. George's Day. Hardly anyone celebrates St. George's Day anymore."

You come up with the best ideas. You had the idea to think of all the questions you could possibly think of, write them all down in a notebook, and then find the answers. You thought if you did that, you'd know everything and then wouldn't have to go to school anymore. You also came up with the idea of a school newspaper on your own. You included the weather forecast and which flowers were blooming and which were dead. I'd type it up for you and you'd cut it out and distribute it. You were very proud to have been the first student to publish their own newspaper at the school.

Sometimes you can be amazingly kind and helpful to your brother and friends, and sometimes you can be a real jerk to them. You're still enthusiastic about almost everything (as your teacher says, you have "almost boundless enthusiasm" for new projects). For the most part, you are gracious and polite to adults, although you've gotten shyer and less talkative with them in the last year. Ab. is still your best friend at school, but you're having to reach out more to other kids since she's doing more girly stuff this year. You love being in the oldest group at school and are good at watching out for the younger kids.

I'm so proud of you on the soccer field. You always try your best, and you always follow the coach's directions. You don't let anything slow you down, and you're not discouraged by losses.

I can feel my influence on you slowly ebbing away. You no longer think my music is cool just because I'm listening to it. You don't trust my sense of style (probably a wise choice). You're watching your friends more closely for clues. 

You really don't want to hold my hand anymore, but you'll still snuggle, especially before bed. You stopped calling me "Mama" and now call me "Mom." You may not be getting as tall as you'd like, but you're still getting awfully big to me.

Love, Mom