Where I look back over your last year
You can count to one-hundred . . . though sometimes you get tripped up somewhere between 13 & 17. And you’re right, it should be “tenty-one, tenty-two, tenty-three, tenty-four, tenty-five, tenty-six, tenty-seven, tenty-eight, tenty-nine.” Alas, the English language has a whole bunch of stuff that will never make sense to anyone.
I’m not sure if I enjoy your love of cuddles more than you enjoy being cuddled. But, either way, it’s something of which I hope you never outgrow.
You enjoy your sweets.
And you were even goofy when you graduated preschool.
You’re still not too old for facepaint – then again, neither is your dad.
Video games are a priority for you, but you make the most out of any time to play.
You actually understand how to play soccer, though there are times you forget which goal you’re supposed to be attacking. And the “no hands” rule stymies the best of us, from time to time.
You lost three teeth.
You got a new cat.
Your dad made you take lots of selfies with him
You progressed three belts in Tang Soo Do and show a continued urge to “do better.” Random breaks to meditate have turned to random breaks to do push-ups. I’m not sure what brought about either, but they crack me up.
You’re quick to point out that we don’t only need to go to the beach only once a year . . . believe me, kid, your dad is trying to figure out how to spend more time there.
You started school. Your favorite class appears to be PE.
You’re growing up so fast. I love you.