A whole decade. That's how old James is today. So here's a shout-out to James and his fantabulous birthday!
On the day you were born, I worked half a day. We went to the hospital about midnight or so. We nearly hit a cow that was loping down the service road.
Since the day you were born, you have been our social butterfly. You're always ready with a smile or a hug or an "I love you." You hate it when others are hurting. Even though you had only met your grandmother (my mother) once or twice, you screamed and cried and hung on to my leg until we allowed you to go to her funeral--in your shorts because we didn't have "church clothes." (We weren't planning on you going.) You were 5. You insisted on going up to the casket. You waved to her.
At age 3 or 4, we would walk around the Logan City Cemetary while waiting for John to get out of his preschool. One day you found a pinwheel on the ground. You carried it around for a while and when it was time to go, I told you to place it by someone's headstone. You chose a grave, knelt in front of the stone, placed the pinwheel next to it, then waved and said, "Bye!" and ran off. I'm certain that somewhere, someone was smiling through tears. I know I was.
You wear your heart on your sleeve. You love deeply and get hurt deeply. You love video games (what 10 year-old doesn't?), but you also love to read. You discovered the Harry Potter BOOKS this year. You are a true middle child--you're room's a HUGE mess and you leave a trail of stuff from the front door to your room every afternoon. You're easily frustrated, but quickly over it.
I think that's one of the things I love best about you, James. You never give up on people. You keep trying. And you're honest. When you haven't done the work, you say so--quite innocently and honestly. But you stand up for yourself when you need to.
Happy birthday, James. I love you. "Have I told you you're my favorite?"
On the day you were born, I worked half a day. We went to the hospital about midnight or so. We nearly hit a cow that was loping down the service road.
Since the day you were born, you have been our social butterfly. You're always ready with a smile or a hug or an "I love you." You hate it when others are hurting. Even though you had only met your grandmother (my mother) once or twice, you screamed and cried and hung on to my leg until we allowed you to go to her funeral--in your shorts because we didn't have "church clothes." (We weren't planning on you going.) You were 5. You insisted on going up to the casket. You waved to her.
At age 3 or 4, we would walk around the Logan City Cemetary while waiting for John to get out of his preschool. One day you found a pinwheel on the ground. You carried it around for a while and when it was time to go, I told you to place it by someone's headstone. You chose a grave, knelt in front of the stone, placed the pinwheel next to it, then waved and said, "Bye!" and ran off. I'm certain that somewhere, someone was smiling through tears. I know I was.
You wear your heart on your sleeve. You love deeply and get hurt deeply. You love video games (what 10 year-old doesn't?), but you also love to read. You discovered the Harry Potter BOOKS this year. You are a true middle child--you're room's a HUGE mess and you leave a trail of stuff from the front door to your room every afternoon. You're easily frustrated, but quickly over it.
I think that's one of the things I love best about you, James. You never give up on people. You keep trying. And you're honest. When you haven't done the work, you say so--quite innocently and honestly. But you stand up for yourself when you need to.
Happy birthday, James. I love you. "Have I told you you're my favorite?"
