eight years old.
as i filled his birthday pinata with mini rubixs cubes, dice, mazes, whoopie cushions, and chocolate bars i thought about how distant eight seems from seven. how much more boyish and fun it feels.
quinny, what can i say about you. you definitely love sports more then school and baseball seems to have stolen your heart. i recently told you that the mole located above your mouth was called a beauty mark and you got this disgusted look on your face and said, "ew gross." i laughed. you didn't. your on the sixth book from the "diary of a wimpy kid" series. you've had a continuous game of monopoly going on with william and ollie, the three of you meet up every few days for a few hours to continue your journey around boardwalk. you recently found that yellow footy near the train tracks, your lucky like that, the universe continually offers you abandoned treasures. you can be very gentle and sweet when you want to be, extremely social and chatty, and you live life at your own pace. you're just gorgeous.
happy eighth birthday baby boy.
