My baby that was born at 4:44 a.m. and now wears jersey #4 is eight years old today.
Okay, I'm back. Had to run for a tissue. Just thinking about my little boy getting so big makes me a bit sappy.
AJ is determined to enjoy every possible moment of his big day. He asked to be woken up early, which I did - at 6:30. That's 10-15 minutes earlier than usual. Silly me for misunderstanding. He wanted to wake up at 4:44. Sorry kid, I haven't gotten up that early for you since you were a baby.
Sydney has vowed to be nice to her big brother all day. So far she's followed him into the bathroom singing Happy Birthday. She followed that up with a hug and later a high five. She's now busy working on a birthday card for him - one that she's now wrapping in tissue paper and for which she apparently needs a lot of tape (based on how many times she's called for help when the tape gets stuck.)
AJ is very aware of the legal significance of turning eight. This is almost as exciting as being old enough to vote or drink. He asked me if I would drive him to school today. Why?
It's his first time riding in the front seat.
As we drove, he pulled down the visor and looked in the mirror. He then excitedly announced, "I think I'm growing a mustache!"
More likely he forgot to wash his face after eating breakfast. But when you're eight, the possibilities are endless of what you're now old enough to do.
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