Chicken quesadillas and chocolate-cherry cake.
Alex is eight today! This was the dinner he requested. He was born eight years ago this morning, just two weeks after we moved into this house. He waited ten days past his due date, which gave me a chance to unpack. He is thoughtful like that.
This boy. It's hard to describe your children. I watched him play soccer last weekend and I spent the whole time wondering: How did he get so tall for his age? Where did that come from, the drive to run and be aggressive and get to the ball? (Italics because to me, those are foreign-language words.) When did he start calling his friends "Dude"?
About Alexander at age eight: He gets vastly pissed off when he screws up, or when things don't go right. He usually gets over it quickly. He can be a real grouch. He gets presents for his brothers. He likes digging in the dirt. He spends a few minutes of special quiet time with our dog every morning. He has been unreasonably enthusiastic about his corrective orthodontia. I suspect--based on hearsay--he has a spectacularly foul mouth for an eight-year-old, but he hides it well from me and Chuck.
He is the very best person in the whole world to give gifts to.
Happy birthday to my middle monkey.
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