This Goes to Eleven...

He's off the charts, man. Eleven years old.

No more Kids Menus. Boooooo.

What can I say that hasn't been said before?

I can say that his kindness grows exponentially with his age. That his sweet attitude toward others is inspiring. I can say that he reminds me more and more of his father, which is an amazingly good thing.

I can say that over the past 11 years I've watched him grow from a chubby little baby that rarely cried into a tall and gorgeous young man who rarely complains.

I can say that he is a sweet and loving big brother who shares his things without a thought of selfishness.

Most of the time.

I can say that when I gave him his birthday hug this morning, his head hit my chin.

And I'm tall.

And I have to say that this morning, when he walked down the stairs and saw the balloons on the chairs, and the presents on the table, he walked into the kitchen with his eyes wide in wonder and said,

"Did you do this for me while I was sleeping?"

"Yes, I did," I said. "Happy Birthday!"

He walked around to the other side of the kitchen, where I was pouring a cup of coffee and grabbed me and hugged me so tightly I couldn't breathe for a moment. His curls brushed my cheek and his arms reached all the way around me. (I remember when his curls brushed my knees and his arms reached to my sides...)

"Thank you, Mom."

And then I died of happiness.

I'm writing this from heaven.