Dear Ethan

Dear Ethan,

On August 28, 2002, I headed to the hospital in great anticipation, and great fear, of your arrival. I was 19, and scared out of my mind. But then, you arrived. They placed your tiny body in my arms, and all I could think was, "You are amazing." Here we are, 8 years later, on your birthday.

Last year on your birthday, you patiently awaited the arrival of an (at that time unknown) baby brother. But you also grew from this:

To this:

You've learned to ride a bike. You are about to enter the third grade. You are compassionate and loving and such an amazing big brother. You've decided that you are too big to call me mommy and your dad daddy, and have broken us into mom and dad. Yes, I did cry the day that happened. You are no longer a baby.

Today, you opened presents under the watchful eyes of grandma Judy, grandpa Earl, uncle Tim, aunt Kim, Makayla, dad, Claire, Grayson and of course, me.

You quickly chose a favorite, which required us to take batteries from Elmo (sorry Claire, mommy and daddy will get more tomorrow!) so you could take your new remote control helicopter for a spin in the kitchen. Claire LOVED this, and you laughed harder making her laugh.

Then I debuted your cake. You requested a robot this year. I made him a little on the lopsided and deformed side, but you loved it all the same.

Eight candles were lit and happy birthday was sung.

And then you made your wish!

And then we all realized that I accidentally bought trick candles, and you got to blow your candles out about 10 times before I could could find a cup to put them out in. This made everyone laugh quite a bit.

You had a great day, and I'm glad. Next year is the last birthday before we get to double digits. Right now, let's just enjoy 8, OK buddy?

Love,

Mom (mommy!)