My little Gentleman, the one with the freckles across his nose, is six.
You are a better person than I am; holding the door for ladies, crying over your own greed, making your sister laugh. Your unique perspective on life makes everything fun. I'm endlessly proud of your artistic talents, your prowess on the monkey bars, and the many skills you learned in kindergarten this year. You can melt me with a look.
I am so thankful that you haven't outgrown the need to crawl in bed with me every morning and snuggle your way back to sleep, or that you still follow me to the driveway and blow kisses as I leave for work. I'm holding on to these moments for a lifetime, my little man.
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