Tomorrow you turn twelve years old. And here we are again...birthday weekend. I love that you love to celebrate your birthday. I tease you that you think your birthday is a National Holiday, but I agree it is a big deal. The biggest deal, because it marks another year that I have been able to live my life doing the most important job in the world, being your mom.
This past year has been one of the fastest years ever. I feel like we just celebrated your 11th birthday at Hershey Park. Today we will celebrate you again! We are taking you and your friends to the Towson Basketball Game. Old friends, new friends and best friends will be there. And tomorrow we will have family dinner. Friends and family. Your loyalty and love belong to your friends and family. And because of your loyal, funny, and kind nature, everyone in your life counts you as one of their blessings.
Lots of changes have happened this year. In February, you got your acceptance into three schools, and you chose to go to The Gilman School. You said, "Mom. I just belong there." You immediately went outside and put a "Gilman" magnet on my car. You graduated fifth grade at Jacksonville, earning straight A's and The Sportsmanship Award. You spent the beginning of the summer playing in lacrosse tournaments. We spent the rest of the summer at the beach, our happy place! And then it was time to start school. We went to the school store and bought your supplies, including a book bag with what else but a Gilman patch on it. (A book bag that you left at home on the first day of school, and I had to drive all the way home and back to school with it. BEST.MOM.EVER).
Let's talk about this drive to and from Gilman and what happens during the hours in between. You and I get up early and drive to school. You are usually quiet on the drive, but I don't mind. We chat a little about your school work and which teacher you need to see when you get there. You eat your breakfast. I drop you off a half hour before school starts. You hop out of the car and say, "Bye, mom. Love you." I watch you as you walk into school usually talking with your friends, and one day I saw you help a boy on crutches who you didn't even know by carrying his book bag. During the day, I can't see what you are doing, but I know you are learning, and talking, and playing. When I pick you up, you get into the car, sometimes after a quick stop in the school store for a snack, with a smile. I always ask, "How was your day?" You say, "Great!" and then you tell me all about the new things you learned, funny things that happened with your new friends, the grades you got on the tests or projects, art and 3D printing clubs, and the sports you played in gym. You are thriving at Gilman. You are being challenged, but you are proving you are up to the challenge. Your teachers say you are a diligent student who stays on task and is kind to others. Your evenings are spent doing homework and playing sports. You are playing lacrosse and basketball. You also go to small group training that works on speed and agility. You are one busy boy! I am so impressed with your maturity and work ethic.
I could literally write a book about you and how proud I am of the young man you are and continue to become. But I have to wake you up, so you can study for exams before your birthday celebrations begin! But before I end, here are a few other things about you at twelve. You love Chick-Fil-A and eat it several times a week. I tease you that your blood type is now Chick-Fil-A sauce. You like to listen to rap music, but I hear you singing along to my country music in the car. Like most other tweens, your phone is an appendage. You love snapchat, silly group texts with your buddies and youtube. You can give us an attitude and sometimes have a smart mouth, and can be a bit of a know-it-all. I suspect that will just get worse as we transition into the teen years. We will get through it. And lastly, it has happened......You are officially taller than me!
Happy Birthday to my #1. I love you all the love in the world.
Mom (Momma)
No comments:
Post a Comment