My Aidan is Nine

Aidan, today you are nine.

Nine. I am not sure how this is possible, but my little bugaboo of a baby is now a nine year old boy

At nine, your obsession with Harry Potter endures. You have shyly reminded me many times that there is a chance you could get called to Hogwarts when you turn eleven. I am holding fast to that little boy in you that still believes in magic, witchcraft and wizards. Even though I know you will be horribly disappointed to discover we truly are just a family of Muggles.

You have read the entire Harry Potter series at least four or five times, all the way through, and still sleep with the set of books next to your bed. I think you know all the spells by heart. You haven’t let me cut your hair before school starts, because when it is long, and just a little bit wild, you think you look just a little bit like Harry Potter himself.

Apart from Harry Potter, you also continue to love Legos. You love to build and can spend hours constructing or deconstructing. You are a bit of a pack rat and refuse to put away a Lego set, once built, which has made your bedroom into a bit of a messy, disorganized and somewhat chaotic Lego museum. You also saved every single Lego magazine and catalogue you have ever received, until I finally got you to throw some of them away in the hopes of freeing up some space on your overstuffed bookshelves.

Your favorite food is still pizza. And anything that resembles a baked good, particularly chocolate chip cookies warm from the oven. You asked for a chocolate chip cake for your birthday and an ice cream pie for the night before. You are still my junk food junkie.

You are a leader. You remain my devout rule-follower and rule-enforcer. You like to take care of everyone and everything, as long as you get to be in charge. And if sometimes that means you get a little bossy, well, you think it’s okay because you know best anyway.

You have a good, kind heart. Every teacher, every coach, every person, who has ever spoken about you to me has commented on your kindness and on your loving spirit. You like to encourage others, particularly your peers. I have never been prouder than watching you cheer for your team mates, your friends or your brothers.

You discovered tennis this summer and fell in love. You still love golf, moving up to playing independently of your Dad with the other big kids. You continue to amaze me in the pool, watching you swim faster than I probably ever could. You enjoy basketball and hope to try out for your school’s team this winter. You love to snowboard and are unbearably proud that you have graduated to going up the chair lifts and down the ski hills on your own. You love to ride your bike, particularly when it involves mountain bike racing with your Dad. You finished your second triathalon this summer with a smile of pride bursting on your face.

You are a dedicated, hard worker. I will never forget how determined you were to learn how to serve in tennis. You practiced for almost two hours, hitting and serving, again and again and yet again, until you got it just right.

You adore your brothers. The three of you are inseparable. You build forts together from sheets and blankets dragged off your beds, covering up the entire upstairs hallway. You stage elaborate and complicated Lego battles. You battle with your DSs, play Harry Potter outside, running in the backyard yelling spells, and engage in some fairly intense nerf warfare.

You are a love. You are an affectionate, sweet boy who still snuggles with me and will crawl into my lap for a cuddle. Every year, every moment, I am thankful for that growing boy who will still let his mom hold him close. I never want to let you go.

Happy Nine to my love, my first born, my bugaboo grown into a sweet boy.