Alaska boy, I can’t believe you’re six.
Your first day on Earth, I was terrified. I was in charge of something ALIVE that couldn’t take care of itself at all.
You got bigger, a little at a time.
And one day, all of a sudden, you were a little person – not a lump.
And from the start, you danced.
and danced some more
You’ve ridden dogsleds
made it through a car wreck with a tractor trailer without a scratch – and without even dropping your cookie
lived by the beach
got stitches, and a “Han Solo” scar
slept on TOP of your dresser
lived with your parents’ terrible influence
wobbled through your first ski lesson
met a mermaid
and blown out candles SIX TIMES
I don’t know what’s next – maybe you’ll fly a plane, or build a rocket, or simply watch all the episodes in existence of Phineas and Ferb, but know that we’ll be here to cheer you on.
You big doofus.
In the middle of a meltdown – one concerning getting a “special treat” from school, which he did not get due to living up to his nickname – inform child you have something
very special for him. Reach out and catch something out of the air and put it in his hand.
Spend entire ride home with child examining his cupped palm looking for the invisible ladybug.
VOLDEMORT IS THREE! BRACE YOURSELVES!
I’m pretty sure that you’ve looked at entirely too many toys for an upcoming three year birthday when you start dreaming in playmobile figures.
Bastards weren’t much help, either.