As of 12:07 a.m. Wednesday, December 8th, I have an eight year old.
My son is EIGHT. I have an EIGHT year old.
Is it weird that I’m thrilled and weepy about it at the same time. Proof I’m the mom I guess.
I’m so proud of him – he’s such a great little dude.
He’s sweet and empathetic, and kind and loving.
He’s REALLY funny and has a great sense of humour, and he is the drama king when he wants to be.
He loves to read and play chess. He loves music and video games. He’s a huge Harry Potter and Star Wars fan.
He loves to draw and create comic books. He’s really smart and scary good at math and spelling.
He always runs to me when he’s feeling sad or sick and wants to be held like he used to be when he was a wee babe. Sometimes, he’ll just sit next to me, put his arm around my shoulder and say, “What do you wanna talk about Mommy?”
I’m so happy he’s mine. I’m so lucky he’s been part of my life the last eight years.
I wouldn’t change a moment (except for maybe some of the pukey ones).
Love you Niko. Mommy loves you forever. xxoo