Eight

When neighborhood kids come to our door and I tell them you are at the playground playing "Asherball," no one raises an eyebrow.  It has become the official sport of the neighborhood.

You always say please and thank you and have so much COMPASSION brimming out of that gangly little body.

When I stumbled downstairs one early morning not long ago, you were finishing up a game of chess with your stuffed bear, Turquoise.  With a straight face, you said, "I won. Turquoise conceded."

You agree with me that at some point, Turquoise the Bear will need to stay home.  Although, to you, college should be that time.  I was thinking more like the third grade.

You have a very interesting concept of how babies are created, which includes a seed in a girl's belly and mental telepathy.  I guess at some point we'll need to clear that up, but not yet.

You play soccer with a big grin on your face.  Actually, you do EVERYTHING with a smile.

You do your very best to be a good boy, and mostly succeed.

You were so excited when Noe called to you by name for the first time!  You remain your brother's biggest cheerleader.

I spend a lot of time on Google as I try to keep up with you.  What?  There is a fifth world ocean?  When did that happen?  Yes, you are right..."APPALACHIAN" does end in -ian!  Umm...I suppose a cloud would be considered a form of gas........  My brain hurts a lot.

You are a light and joy to our little family.  You insist we celebrate every holiday to its fullest.  I promise to do a better Kwanza this year so that you don't have to write in your class journal, "For Kwanza we went to the beach in Santa Monica" again.  Note to self:  Look up exactly how one celebrates Kwanza.
               
I truly treasure every day with you, my Ashercito.  Even if your questions do make my head hurt.  Happy 8th Birthday!