Eight!

It is truly truly hard for me to believe that my baby is eight. We mamas get sappy over every age it seems, and eight is no different really than seven was, but is a lot different than five and, I'm sure, ten. It's just a birthday thing, I think,

No different than every other sappy year. But, wow, it's been eight years since I've had him in my belly. That makes me feel further away from what I started out knowing was motherhood, and yet here I am deep in the trenches with an 8 year old and an almost 11 year old. Right in the middle.

This kid can be described in many ways, but here are 8:

1. Athletic

2. A good eater

3. Kind

4. A good friend

5. Whip smart

6. Warm

7. Baseball-loving

8. Outside-loving

He lets nothing hold him back, he just lives his life. He does what he does, he knows what he wants, and that is to play outside (preferably baseball), eat food, and feel loved by his family. His needs are so basic.

We discovered the summer he was 4 that he really loves baseball, and even though he plays soccer and football and tag and basketball and tennis, baseball is really his love.



He's kind of moody, I think anyone will tell you! Probably because he has these very basic needs, and when you throw something else in there he can be not all that flexible about it. So when I see a smile like THIS out of him, my heart just swells because that's our boy right there, the true him.

Happy birthday, Fisher. We love you so very much.