You can do fractions and have a photographic memory. You see the beauty and purpose in everything. (“Don’t throw that away! I want to keep it!”) You have always been a good cuddler and still like to sit in my lap. You constantly whistle.
I can never make you a promise I don’t intend to keep because you will remember, even if it’s months (or years) later. You notice when I get my hair cut and as for your own hair, it goes from the perfect length to too long practically overnight. You need a band-aid on every booboo, even if there’s no blood. And you love to lounge in a hot bath with bath salts (when I have them).
You’re always trying to keep up with your big brother, even when you don’t realize you are surpassing him. You chose today’s cupcake flavor based on the preference of one of your best friends because he doesn’t like your favorite (vanilla) and you didn’t want him to be cupcake-less. (I, of course, am making both flavors now.)
You are shy but incredibly loud. You are both clumsy and meticulous. You won’t change your socks if I don’t remind you, but you never ever forget to wash your hands after using the bathroom (and rat on your brother when he doesn’t wash). Two minutes after a bath, you have your own little cloud of dust swirling around you like Pigpen, but you set out your clothes the night before a big day.
You love candy that is colored blue and flavored like no fruit that exists in nature. But you also devour a bowl of strawberries in the blink of an eye, love edamame, and take your popcorn with truffle salt and fresh ground pepper. You like oysters on the half shell because they taste like the ocean.
You are more than I can describe, yet easy to read. You are my baby.
And today, you are eight.