Six is halfway to twelve. Which is halfway to twenty-four and I am so not ready for you to be twenty-four so just slow it the hell down, will ya?
You’re growing up so fast. There are times I look at you and wonder where the hell this little man came from.
You are so smart and kind and funny and brave. And six year olds shouldn’t have to be brave in the ways you’ve had to be. You love more fiercely than most adults I know.
I wish I could bottle up your belly laugh and that mischievous look you get when you think you’re going to trick someone.
You’ve taught me so much about life and love and unfairness and things I never thought someone so little could ever teach me.
The best thing your mom ever did was trust me to be your godmother. We may not be religious and it may not mean the same things to us as it does to those who “do the Jesus” at church but know that it means the world to me.
I get to see you in just a few hours. I promise I’ll be all done crying by then. And it’s okay if you roll your eyes when I hug you a little tighter and longer than normal.
I am so excited to see what the next six years holds for you, but let’s not get to it too fast, okay?
Happy birthday, dude.
I’ll eat you up, I love you so.