8 year's old is a big year for you, Monkey.
Finally, you're tall enough to ride the bigger rides at the fair.
Finally, you can play pee-wee basketball.
FINALLY! you can try out for the Little League team.
And I must say, we are all just as excited, as you are to finally be able to.
Right now, sports "are your thing". You're competitive drive is driven by such a genuine force, there's no way to keep from being energized by your efforts.
Your heart consistently remains on your sleeve and I'll admit I'm not always the best at knowing how to handle your raw, always on the surface emotions.
I worry a lot about your gentle kindness, with hopes of it sustaining and rooting in confidence as you grow, rather than letting the world jade you from its lack of it's own affection at times.
You continue to be too kind to Joey who manipulates you too often and I know Wesley provokes you too much, but in the less loud hours of each day, it's clear to see how much Bean depends on you as hers and how Bubby leans on the comfort in your ora.
You're a rule follower, a creative thinking, a considerate friend and your father's little shadow.
Your sweetness and charm are what I feel will make you a force in success in this game of life, but also know that your own unawareness of those very traits, is what will be the most impactful to those who are lucky enough to share your time.
I watched you make a wish this summer.
Your eyes caught on a shooting star and mirrored it's glow, your face lit slightly, you're eyes closed slowly, and the look of hope settled on your face. As soon as your wish was made, you returned your attention to making a s'more, without a mention of any of it.
It left me breathless.
To be fortunate enough to be looking at you in that split moment, to witness such innocence, I won't questions, but will certainly be so so thankful for.
I thought about asking you what you wished, I wanted to be let in on such magic. Every fiber of me wanted to make it come true for you. But, I left it alone. Keeping that moment to myself, as much as you kept the wish to yours, while I scanned the sky hoping to find a shooting star of my own to wish on for you.
I love all of you at 8, Monkey-man..