Happy ninth birthday to my biggest boy, my eldest and earnest — my dreamer, my Elliot. I still remember the weight of your small self curled up under my chin, the slight seven pounds of you so heavy with potential and responsibility.
This is the year you became a great reader, the kind of boy who can be found always in the middle of at least five or six stories. The boy of my heart.
This is the year you became capable, able to handle jobs and earn “pebbles” to build your precious savings. You became adept at counting and budgeting and putting it all together into a plan for the future.
This is the year you became an artist, when the visions in your head could keep you occupied for hours with a pencil and a big, empty sheet of paper — worlds building and colliding in a story all your own, intricate and wild!
This is the year you became strong, your taekwondo shout confident and loud, boards broken and solid push-ups earning you compliments.
This is the year you turned NINE! I love you, and happy birthday!