Today you are eight.
And I love you more each day. Which is strange, since you stole my entire heart the first time I held you.
I love your funny smiles.
I love your protectiveness of your little brother.
I love your indecision. Because it reminds me of myself.
I love the calics in your hair. The ones that cause anxiety for anyone cutting your hair.
I love how your hair gets blonder and your skin gets tanner all summer. That does not remind me of myself.
I love your creativity.
I love your blue eyes and your giant pupils.
I love your ears that stick out, just a little. A trait you get from my grandmother. One that I'm afraid you will hate later in life.
I love the gentleness in you. Your carefulness.
I love your go-with-the-flow attitude. It reminds me of your daddy.
I love the budding environmentalist and conservationist I see in you.
I love your freckles.
I love your long eye lashes.
I love the sponge for knowledge that you are. Your delight in learning. You just can't get enough.
I love that you're my son.