My firstborn is 8 today and we have had the best day together. He has been sweet, enthusiastic, and appreciative. The weather has been beautiful. It's been wonderful.
Milo is sweet, enthusiastic, and (sometimes) appreciative. He doesn't like it when I'm mad at him and is quick to apologize. He will help his little sister and the smaller neighbors by reading to them, reaching things for
them, or explaining the intricacies of Lego Star Wars in excruciating detail to them. (They're a good audience for this; I am not.)
He likes to be challenged mentally (math problems forever!) and physically (I'm not sure I'll still be faster than him by his next birthday). He is getting better at losing. He has matured this year so that he doesn't cry at the drop of a hat - or tries not to anyway - and it breaks my heart when I see him wiping away tears, trying not to cry. (Unless it's because he didn't finish a movie a week and a half ago because he chose to walk away and now he's mad at me about it - and then I try not to laugh at him and ask him to take a nap.)
He has a good sense of humor and is often quick to laugh at himself. He develops fierce friendships and those friends are remarkably loyal, which makes me believe he is as well. He has really good handwriting and a good memory. He is passionate about Lego, Ninjago, Star Wars, Harry Potter, Lego, Lego, and Lego. He can build the Lego kits in the dark.
He loves his family - and his extended family - and tells us so. And boy, do we love him. He is my hands-down, favorite 8-year-old and I feel so so so incredibly lucky to be his mom.
Happy Birthday, Milo. Thanks for being you.
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