Eight years old was unfathomable when you were born. In the early days of figuring out our first baby, of figuring out our family, eight years felt like an eternity away. An unreachable goal. But here we are - a family of four, eight years in the making.
Here are things that help define you as a newly minted eight year old. You are into video games and screens of all sorts. You love Minecraft and this sim city knockoff called Cities: Skylines. You're pretty indifferent to the Zoom classes you have as a replacement for in-person school, but you love the math exercises and a typing game that Dad found for you. You got so far ahead in math lessons that Ms. Shelley had to ask you to slow down and do just one lesson a day. You will participate in anything that can be turned into a game. You're a boy after your father's own heart in that way. If we need you to eat more at a meal or sit still while we're out, it's game time! Games like animal draft or "I'm going to a cook-out" or even practicing spelling or math facts, will keep you focused long enough to accomplish our primary task.
Focus. That's been an eye opener for us with our adventures in home schooling (Dad's adventures, I should say). On the days you're not medicated, it is hard to get you to focus on the reading/research assignments. But, medicated, you can focus with assistance on the hard stuff and focus independently on the stuff that you like! ADHD is a real thing and I'm so glad we started treating it so that school can be a successful experience for you!
You're into jokes, classic comics like Calvin & Hobbes and the Farside. You are a dancer - jerking body movements and hops and hip swings are your go-to moves. You're somewhat oblivious to other's feelings and the social temperature of a room. But you are becoming a bit more empathetic. You cry at sad parts of movies. Rarely, you come out of your room at night, saddened by some random thoughts that have crept in as you wait for sleep.
But your mood changes quickly and the sadness rolls off. This ability to let the world roll off, or at the very least, how you avoid harboring ill will for any significant amount of time, is something we should all strive for. I hope this stays with you. I hope you are always able to feel the sadness, recognize the injustice, but move forward without letting those feelings immobilize you.
My favorite moments with you are in the evening hours after we've sent Will to bed. You're often snuggled up in bed with me, reading a book, wanting to share a new joke you've found, or insisting on discussing some odd fact of life. You get sleepy, lay your head on my shoulder, and say you love me. Those must be moments where you feel completely safe and at ease. I hope we can continue to give you those moments for years to come.
I love you, Miles. Happy Birthday!
Love,
Mama
