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Tall enough so that your head touches my boobs if you try to butt me with it. Skinny as a rake. So much energy. We can’t keep up. Roamer. You never want to stay at home. Lover of stories and superheroes. Still fascinated by anything on wheels. Put you in a car, train, tram, boat and you’re set for about an hour. Shy, but you always seem to have friends. Peepee and poopoo and penis and butt, these are now your vocabulary. Like the scooter, you mastered the cycle in the blink of an eye. You learned the password to our computer, and every time we don’t hear you, we know there’s a screen somewhere and you’re on it. Cookie monster, Halloween will be your undoing. So much sickness this year, it broke my heart, but you kept smiling. Handsome, even if it’s I your mother saying so. I despaired over your ever learning to read, but you have exceeded my expectations. You hate homework, you can’t sit still, artwork is a hastily scribbled something presented to me with pride. But woe betide we try to dislodge you when you’re into something. Compliant, but on those few occasions stubborn as hell. As you spend more time away from us, I have to keep reinforcing kindness. You decide you’d rather be five, if six means eating and dressing yourself. Still, you curl your long body onto mine, you burrow your head into blankets, you’re scared of the dark and sleeping alone. Early rise. Dreamer. Impatient and patient with your sister. You tire of being her everything, but you’re bored without her.

May this world give you the rainbows you deserve.

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