You came home from school today, and ran in the house with the usual grin you display at the end of your school day. Dropping your backpack, you told me you moved up to the next level on flashcards, thanked me for the treat in your lunchbox, and asked where your little brother was.
You are always full of energy, and I wonder if you know how much I love to watch you do what you do. Your facial expressions, the way you move, big or small, I notice these things. Things that make you who you are.
Like the new sprinkle of freckles on your cute button nose. Freckles that are a symbol of childhood innocence. Freckles that almost seem to dance when you crinkle your nose to adjust your glasses.
How your head moves from side to side as you brush your teeth, instead of just your hand. And how you grin at your yourself in the mirror as the finale to your teeth-brushing, checking for a job well done.
How you gulp your milk when you drink it, then take the back of your hand to wipe off your mustache, and use your jeans to wipe off the back of your hand.
How you twirl your longer shaggy hair around your finger when you’re nervous, like when we’re waiting to be seen at a doctor’s office, or when you are about to meet new friends at a birthday party.
How you sometimes will say “Isn’t Hayden so cute?” about your little brother when he’s sleeping in the car, which makes me secretly hope you will always care for him the way you do. Even when you’re older, and fighting over who gets to use the car.
How you always say “This is the best day of my life,” even though you said it last month at the pumpkin patch, last summer at Disney World, or last night after eating a big chocolate cupcake that is top-heavy with icing. You love life. May you always.
You are a mixture of shyness with hands in your pockets, the stand-up comic who always has an audience, and the sentiment that reminds me to not let life pass us by.
As a mother, I’m supposed to be teaching you, yet you teach me so much more.
I love you, Griff.