Ode to my Oldest Son

My son is great. Probably all moms thinks their boys are great; I am no exception.

He is agreeable, even when his Itouch gets baby finger marks on it, there is no hot water left for his shower, or it rains, hard, the entire track practice. Little does he know how far this trait will take him in life.

He is kind. Kind in the very depth of his soul; kind to infants, kind to brothers and sisters, kind to other kids -- especially if they have problems. As a first grader we applied him to a private school which had one opening for a boy, and he was given the spot over 50 some other little boys after he ran to help another boy who had fallen during PE. Apparently he helped him get up, showed him what to do, and cheered him on. The teachers were impressed with his empathy then, as they are now.

He is funny. Hysterical, actually. He has a big, loud voice and laugh (which he puts to good use just as the younger kids are trying to fall asleep ... what a great sound to hear as they drift off!). He has matured enough to see the humor in small things like a certain younger brother using his hair brush every day. His motto: Don't worry, be happy!

He is interested in the world. He cares about people. He is cute. He is a straight A student.

We are lucky, lucky, lucky to get to live with this boy. He is a jewel.

We love you, buddy!