Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Felix the Great





 "You spent $15 of your own money on me?! Thank you, Simon, it's the best birthday present ever!"

 It's finally starting to set in that he can't jump up and go. And it stinks for all of us. 














is eight. 

Even after all the presents and celebrating, I still can't wrap my mind around it. 

This kid. 
He is still my most sensitive. 
He can take a pummeling from his brothers, but he can't take having anyone raise their voice at him.
He makes so many noises. Usually, without even realizing it. It drives everyone insane, but I know one day I'll miss it.
He's super smart. 
He's so, so easy to teach.
He lets me know if I'm taking a concept too far with an, "I got it"-hand in my face. 
Which leads to, he can be incredibly rude without meaning to be.
He still plugs his ears if someone is talking and he doesn't want to listen. He's smart enough not to do this to adults. :)
He does all kinds of weird tricks with his eyelids.
He can still walk on his toe-knuckles and tends to show off this feature when we have company.
Girls are not on his radar.
Neither is fashion.
Clothes are purely utilitarian at this point. 
He likes chess.
He likes strategy.
He likes magic.
He likes computer games.
He likes solving problems.
He likes annoying Simon.
He likes annoying Titus.
He loves making Jude laugh.
He likes riding his bike.
He likes hide and go seek.
He loves his Daddy.
He doesn't give out hugs all that freely.
He's ticklish.
He has a hunter's heart.
He loves chasing squirrels. 
He caught a wild rabbit in our backyard with his bare hands. I haven't even been able to catch a clear picture of the thing.
He loves bugs.
His fingernails grow freakishly fast. 
He hates cutting his fingernails.
He loves spaghetti.
He hates sour cream and mushrooms.
He hates being the center of attention, but finds himself there often.
He hates having his picture taken and has entered the fake-smile phase.
He's lost seven teeth.
He reads anything and everything.
He never sees anything as too difficult. 
He takes out the trash and loads/empties the dishwasher.
He's awesome about making his bed. 
He still personifies the meaning of his name with every ounce of his being.
Happy.
Happy, happy boy.




1 comment:

Brown English Muffin said...

The words at the end are just beautiful...I'd love to be a fly on the wall years later when he's an adult and he reads what you wrote about him.

P.S. My daughter doesn't like eggs, rice, fish or sour cream either...what's up with that?