"6"? Really? Wow! In the span of six short years, you have turned my hair a shade of silver. That's right, I skipped gray and went right to silver. But when you throw your arms around me, and say, "I love you, Mom", you melt me. And when you rub your blanket under your nose, you melt me. When you wrap that blanket around me while we watch a video, and query, "Are you alright, Mom?", you melt me. And when you laugh - that infectious laugh, the one I've heard about, read about, one that so few possess, a laugh that belongs to a person who revels in life, a laugh I myself lack - you melt me. When you are slaying the dragons in our midst with your sword, flinging yourself into furniture with a tremendous shout of victory; when you are slam-dunking basketballs in your room and the ceiling below trembles in your quake; even when you are banging on your sister's door, demanding entrance so you can do something naughty, like steal a puzzle piece from her desk just so she will take chase - yes, even then, you melt me. Because you are sweet, so sweet, and too adorable for words. And when I gaze upon you, I see life. So while you terrify me with your sense of abandon in all things, you melt me. Happy birthday, baby boy.
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