I am way late on this birthday letter and for that, I apologize. I needed the right words to express what "Eight" means to me. You are eight years old. I don't know how this keeps happening because I distinctly remember you being an infant and a toddler and a big boy and now my little man... but HOW is it possible that it was almost 9 years ago that I was pregnant with you. Wondering who you would look like and how you would turn out and what traits you would get from your daddy and which ones from me. Would you be left handed or right handed? Would you be more interested in sports or the arts. All of those things that new mom's daydream about when they feel you kick and move inside them. We dream FOR you and we dream OF you. We learn what it's like to truly stop thinking about ourselves and think for this little miracle happening inside us.
I've watched you develop each year a little bit more and a little bit more... each step showing me who you are and the man you will become. Each of your life experiences shaping you and turning you into who you will always be.
You have always looked like your daddy. Of course, there is a bit of me in you too... but you look so much like your daddy. You have his eyes and his smile and a bit of his stubbornness too. When you set your mind to doing something you set your chin and there is no changing your mind... at least not without a fight.
You are definitely your mama's boy and there is nothing wrong with loving your mama. I hope that in loving your mom you learn a bit of the soft side. You learn that cherishing and being cherished are as important as being strong. That hugging someone can make the biggest worries not as burdensome and can also be a way to share the greatest joys. You love to cuddle, always have and I adore it. I won't get those cuddles forever and I will savor each and every one of them.
You love lego men.... not the actual lego's... but the little men. Your imagination is fantastic and something to celebrate. You have always been able to take your trains and your cars and sit on the floor and play for hours in whatever make believe world you have going on. Whether it be a fake vacuum, train cars, matchbox cars or lego men.
Sports... it started with baseball (which didn't go well the first year... think pirouettes on the field lol). Then we moved home to Houston and got you involved with Coach Randy's team. Now... you play anything with a ball. Baseball, Soccer, basketball, kickball, dodgeball and football. It seems that basketball is your current favorite though.
You are such an amazing young man. I love to watch you learn and grow. You are figuring out what works for you and what doesn't. You make mistakes and you learn from them. You care, you cry, you laugh and you get angry... and each of those emotions are plainly written on your handsome face. Joy shines in your eyes and your giggles are contagious.
Since you have started Kindergarten, we have taken a selfie whenever I drive you to school. We get into the drop off line, you undo your seatbelt and we do a selfie. :)
You are my handsome little man. You are my heart. You are my miracle and I love you more than words can ever express. Joseph Bruce Davis, you are my love and I can't believe you are EIGHT.
I love you,