eight years

Happy birthday, Andrew! Today you are eight years old.

Your enthusiasm for turning eight has been building strong for quite some time now. The celebrations started a week ago, and won't finish for a week after, and you are thrilled to make it last as long as you can.

So what have you been up to this past year? Most definitely growing. You shot up three and a half inches between this birthday and last, and I was a bit startled to see your ankles when you tried on last year's school clothes.

You made your first visit to the orthodontist for a consultation and have zero qualms about returning. Because somewhere in the last 25 years, the orthodontic profession has wised up and made metal in your mouth a memorable - and positive - experience. Lobbies are full of iPads and snowboarding video games, beverages for parents, Wi-Fi and fish tanks. Points are awarded for good grades and cavity-free dental visits and can be redeemed for gift cards! For you? This is heaven on earth.

You've also taken off as a reader. You love to read for others, and the tone and inflection and expression in your voice draws me in. My favorite parts are when you break, look up, and comment in between sentences on something you just noticed or find applicable. "Those are twin consonants!" or "Well that would make sense because she didn't put a leash on." Every thought must be narrated. This is who you are, especially when you are nervous.




















The learning and reading and investigating in first grade was fruitful for you last year. You are fascinated by everything from sports to science. Your teacher was instrumental in helping keep your fears in check and also in helping you understand how to edit your thoughts before they leave your mouth. In just two days you will begin second grade and I wonder how your worries will affect your year ahead.

This past July, there were two separate fires in our neighborhood within a single week. We just happened to be driving home on each occasion when we saw the smoke, and like moth to a flame, our curiosity took us on location. In both instances, fire personnel had yet to arrive and your demeanor immediately changed to panic. We left abruptly, but those moments make me wonder... how much of life can we keep you from? How much SHOULD we keep you from? Is there more harm staying inside the bubble or forcing you to face big things with us by your side?

I also wonder if Dad and I are doing enough as parents to help you cope. Are we giving you the right tools? Assurance? Reminders? As your mom and dad, Andrew, we want to protect you, but also give you the means to grow into a responsible, independent adult who can handle a little struggle. Finding that balance between shelter and a shove from the nest is ongoing and specific to who God created you to be in the timing that works best for you. It's the timing that we are constantly reevaluating.

Despite having some anxieties in your life, you are still incredibly brave. You are the first one down the water slides, and immediately insist I come along on your tube. And you jump at the chance to save the day. In fact, earlier this month you were a hero you were for disposing of a dead mouse we found behind the garage when Dad was out of town. Not only did you agree to handle it, but you did so eagerly without any hesitation. I love your bravery, Andrew! Your sense of adventure prevents me from getting stuck in my own monotony.

Sometimes when you need a break from it all, you slip on your clogs and head outside. You have an innate ability to sense your need for solidarity, and are perfectly content to ride your bike or scooter all alone. Sometimes I watch you from the kitchen window, back and forth zooming down the sidewalk, just you and your thoughts. The same holds true in winter months when you slip away to the basement to play your drum or to the back room to pretend with Playmobil.

This past summer I've again enforced the "help yourself" attitude to breakfast and lunch prep in our household. You, Andrew, have eagerly prepared your meals without complaint almost every day and have eaten a cheese quesadilla with a pile of sour cream the entire month of July and again into August. Helping me grill or cook dinner brings you joy. Not because you adore chores - let's be honest, folding napkins comes with a lot of complaint - but because cooking is your thing. As are processed snacks with intense flavorings, a nice cut of grilled sirloin with heavy salt and pepper, and a hot slice of Pepperoni from Jet's. Now if I could only revive that affection towards fruit, we'd be winning.

During this time, you also became smitten with cutting our lawn. This is quite comical to me as I have very specific memories of my own grass-cutting years that mostly involve my immense annoyance and making sure everyone knew it. And by everyone, I mean Grandma and Grandpa. So when the idea of cutting our lawn sparked something inside the "responsibility can be fun" part of your brain, I knew we had to seize our chance. Dad supervises and helps maneuver the mower when it starts to maneuver you, but you are the main man for the job now, and you are rocking it so hard you practically will that grass to grow just so you can cut it again.

Vintage cars with fins and muscle cars with horsepower are your favorites, although you do have a soft spot for modern sports cars. Sometimes I wonder what you'll drive when you're 16. In your dreams it might be an old Mustang. In reality it's more likely to be an old Honda, perhaps a CR-V that doesn't require the dedication of saving your cash. Because it's no secret that your dollars are reserved for one thing only. Gum!

You're two years away from being eligible to run Cross Country for school and I'm pretty sure it will be a great fit. In the meantime, you run like nobody's business all over the soccer field and are happy to be challenged by anyone, even uncles.

On your list of dislikes? This is difficult to determine as your disposition can be so unpredictable. But for starters... The healthy items I pack in your lunch, interruptions in your fun, baiting from your brother and sister, and having your picture taken when you're not in the mood.

For the most part, you are pals with Morgan and Matthew, but sometimes three's a crowd and that odd man out is constantly changing. Some days it's just the bros, some days just the bigs, and some days you go it alone. I like the versatility you share with them, but there are moments of frustration and impatience that come growling out of you. It's actually pretty great self-control considering you'd rather just clock them once really well.



Last February after days of sickness that culminated in a frightening night of uncertainty and a personal phone call to Dr. M, Dad and I took you to the ER at Children's where we started the process of figuring out how God designed your insides. Six months and several gastro visits later, we still don't comprehend the mystery of your system. And so we operate with intention and make our best attempts to prevent the severity of what we dealt with this past winter. Hydration, hand-washing, healthy foods, high hours of sleep and low moments of anxiety are the recipe for the best you.

One thing we do know is that you seem more susceptible to sickness. When Morgan and Matthew get a cold, you get it for a week and sometimes it's accompanied by a fever. When the flu is going around school, you not only contract it, you're out for double the days. Is it mental? Physical? Where is the weak spot that allows illness in, and how can we sure it up? 

In the meantime, we continue adore all of the ways God made you extraordinary. Your view on life is carefree and curious, sensitive yet adventurous. Cannonballs from the diving board and praying in front of a crowd aren't threatening to you in the least. Dreaming and creating are your sweet spot, where you feel purposeful and proud.

Andrew, you are a blessing to our family. May your heart always remain eager enough to guide you off the beaten bath, tame enough to keep you from danger, and God-filled with faith to keep your fears at bay.

I love you dearly,
Mom

"I am with you. I will watch over you everywhere you go." Genesis 25:18a