|This little boy is no longer a little boy (fat lip from trampoline accident)|
|He recovers from accidents, picks himself up, says 'I'm OK' (after tiring of me running to him) and goes forward (accident was the night prior, blood, cut lips, tooth is now gray)|
|He can multitask - he thinks|
|He's a good teammate|
|He has a quiet, thinking type of soul|
|He is still my little guy - who is surrounded by bull-headed women|
|And the world is his|
My little guy (baby guy - when he was a baby) is now 13.
Those are my nicknames for him.
And he answers to all of them.
My pet names.
I can't believe his is now 13.
He is the guy who spends time in his head. He figures things out. He is a solitary man. He thinks. He is destined for greatness - I can feel it. He is the smallest guy in his class, and most likely the one below him as well. He takes it. Blows it off. And is in advanced math, and an engineering class. At 13.
He doesn't like school. He is a boyscout. He loves to read. He devours books.
And this boy/man moves wheellines. Drives a 4wheeler. Takes care of chickens. Has a heart. Hates it when things die.
He is a man of God. He is amazing to listen to when we are in a church class. He stumps people with his mind. He is amazing. He is gracious. He is reverent. I am moved when I see him serving. He takes his Sunday calling seriously. I am so thankful that he has chosen God.
And, he is still a boy. He crawls into his Ipod and tunes the world out. He plays silly games and builds things in computer programs. He annoys his sister. He loves sugar. He has to be told to take a shower, brush his teeth and do something with his hair. It is hard to get him motivated to be active, and engaged in the world around him.
And.. he still calls me Mama, and texts me that he loves me very very very much (usually on Sunday nights).
And I love him. Dearly.
Happy birthday, little man.