This post is exactly one month late. So much has happened in the last 30 days with our move to Texas, I've not had time to catch my breath and write about your special day. But believe me, son, I've been composing this in my head for a long time.
I want to tell you about your birthday but also about who you are as a six year old boy. Let's start with your party. Technically, you had 2. One on the weekend, so all your friends and family could attend, and the other on the actual day, at Chuck E Cheese, with one of your best buddies, Jack.
Your party was everything Lego. And I mean everything. Anyway, your plates had Lego faces drawn on them, you had a Lego piñata, the cakes were giant Lego blocks. You name it, it looked like a Lego. Mommy was up very late the night before the party, grumbling in the kitchen as she iced the half-marshmallow pieces that sat atop your cake. But when you stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, to see why the lights were still on, smiled in wonder at your cake, and stated, "I love you, Mommy!" it made it all worth it.
You got tons of Lego sets at your party. You started working on them immediately, barely noticing as your guest left. We saved the big sets for Dallas, so you could build them while mom, dad, and Grammy unpacked boxes.
On your actual birthday, we met your friend, Jack, and his mommy at Chuck E Cheese. You had a blast! The trip ended with you engaging a beefy teenage worker in an arm-wrestling match to see if you could win the 1,000-ticket Spiderman toy behind the counter when you only possessed 10 tickets. You won, of course, and left the restaurant with the biggest grin on your little face.
Now on to you, little man...I hardly know where to start. You are wiry and can climb anything, just like a monkey. You just learned how to ride your bike without training wheels. You lost your first tooth just days before your birthday and your second tooth two days ago. You are bursting with energy all day, every day. You are still very sensitive when you feel left out, but you put on a brave face until you are alone with mommy. When you cry, I want to punch someone in the face, but I'm trying to teach you (and me) to love your enemies. The tooth fairy, Santa, and the Easter bunny are still very real, though I've had to field some tough questions about Santa's surveillance capabilities lately. You have a love/hate relationship with your sister that brings tears of joy to my eyes one moment and makes me want to ground you until you're 30 the next. Your baby brother idolizes you. You begin talking the moment you wake up, and you don't stop until your head hits the pillow. You still actively seek out cuddle-time with mom and dad at night. You talk to God. You have trouble with your "r's" and pronounce them "ah-wuh." You have stolen my heart.
I love you, six-year-old Parker. I'm so very proud of you, son.