Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Eight years ago, I gave birth to a little boy that changed my life, completely. I became a mother and my heart became yours. Today, I am a proud mother of a boy who is eight. Wow. Hard to believe.
You are my mover and shaker. You get ideas in your head and they soon become actions. You start creating, doing, always going, going, going. I don't know where this energy comes from, but all I can say is you truly live life as full as you can for a now-eight-year old. Not that your brother and sister don't do, create, etc, but you just move on another level.
You wake up all on your own and get yourself ready for school. I don't have to push you to do it, well, maybe remind you about brushing your teeth, but most days you do it on your own.
Who does that? I sure didn't at eight-years-old. It took me a few years to get it together. Wait I'm still working on getting IT together.
You are doing excellent at school. You have a lot of friends.
You come home and put on lemonade stands, draw artsy pictures, read like there is no tomorrow, ride your bike, cook meals for us, ask a lot of questions or ask for definitions of words, which keeps me on my toes. I'm pretty good at defining words, thanks to you. You are very social. You love having friends over.
You are thoughtful, sensitive, stubborn, funny, smart, creative.
You love Angy and Lomy so much. You take care of them and boss them around, too. Big brother duties, I suppose.
Today, after school you were juicing oranges. Lilly came over and asked what you were doing.
"I'm making orange juice for my special breakfast my mom is making me tomorrow." This is so YOU, my little man, so you! You juice your own oranges for fresh o.j. for your birthday.
You made cookies the other day and skipped three ingredients. I told you they may not come out right. I was wrong. Those cookies were delicious. Who needs baking soda, vanilla extract and granulated sugar? Not you.
We were headed to a BBQ, where there was going to be a ton of food, but you insisted on making burgers. We had to take something, we just couldn't go empty handed, according to you So, I walked into the kitchen and saw five perfectly made mini cheeseburgers with lettuce and tomato, bread cut into a circle to fit the patties, just right.
Only you, son!
I remember telling you when you were about three, "Don't go growing up too fast."
"I won't, mom," you said. But you did. And that's ok.
I miss my little, three, four, five, six and seven-year-old Jonas so much. But, I'm happy I have my eight-year-old little man because I get to see all the new things happening in your life. I look forward to more ideas and projects that will definitely pop into your head.