Eight years old. Eight! I can remember my 8th birthday. I got a Jem! doll with flashing earrings and thought it was the dogs cahoneys. I suppose that means you might remember this birthday, and the ones to come.
You change so much every year, it’s hard to keep track. This year you have just grown! You’ve gotten tall, and your shoulders are wider. Still skinny though, I don’t think you’ll fill out until a lot later. Looking at you now you remind me of my side of the family, I think we are going to have a 6 footer on our hands. You certainly eat enough to be that tall!
You’ve mellowed a bit this year as well, though we still have moments. I’d say your dominant personality trait is ‘stubborn’ which you probably also get from me. Sorry about that. Just fingers crossed you also get the apologise-when-wrong gene too!
You are still stunningly gorgeous, even with your big teeth coming in. I just don’t understand where the years are going, it only seems like yesterday that I was writing you letters for your fifth, sixth and seventh birthdays.
Some things you love: you’ve been going to football a lot with your Dad (I’m sorry I never managed to convert you to supporting a decent team, but I did manage to get you in a Utd shirt this year. Slowly slowly catchee monkey perhaps) We had a wonderful first summer of cricket, balmy Thursday nights with friends while you learn to bowl in a relatively straight line (direction optional). You’ve discovered the wonders of computer games, and believe me it’s fun trying to curb the time you want to spend playing on it!
I think mostly this year you have been funny and loving, cheeky and infuriating. Growing up fast.
I love you, almost still little boy,