Thank you for letting me call you Baby, for letting me call you Bear, and sometimes even Baby Bear. Thank you for holding my hand. You hold the door, carry heavy things up the stairs, and are quick with a laugh, And, damn, you are good looking.
One of the funniest things you've said to me is that you are shy. Kid, you are nothing close to shy. Feeling hesitant in a new situation is different from shy. You easily walk up to people you don't know, you chat up moms, you leave any new room or group with a new friend. You may not remember their name, but you've added to your growing posse
You do get upset, although not often and not for long, but when it happens you do the full Charlie Brown. Your head hangs, your shoulders drop, and you shuffle out of a room looking sorrowful and pathetic. Most predictably, the times you get upset are when you've been busted for stealing candy. Your sweet tooth gets the better of you time and time again. There was the early morning when you woke up covered in something awful and I thought you may have had a horrible accident in your bed, only to quickly realize you fell asleep while eating chocolate.
You're a vegetarian - except for bacon - and after months of ignoring it or picking the meat out of your food, I realized I was disrespecting a pretty important wish. You would live off milk, fruit, and bread if we let you, plus the occasional side of bacon. You want to open a cheese shop when you are older, only to be open hours that do not interfere with your MLB career, you've explained. If you have a night game, the shop will only be open early. If a day game, only open at night. And you refuse to sell stinky cheeses.
This year you played soccer, basketball, baseball, and now lacrosse. The sad thing is that it's not enough for you.You keep asking to add more. I wish I could bottle your enthusiasm. You asked my age this week, then soon after picked something up off the ground for me, explaining, "It's hard for old people to bend down."
Your greatest accomplishment this year was probably growing tall enough to ride California Screamin' - just barely. You rode it again, and again, and again, and again. Thankfully you weren't too big to ride the less upside down rides with mom, letting me clench your hand for courage (including on Dumbo, which will be one of the great memories of my life).
You love Lego, our WiiU, Cartoon Network shows, comic books, talking, rearranging my robots (even though I have told you a million times not to touch them), riding your bike, all the PG-13 movies I won't let you see despite your begging, any weapon, any imaginary weapon, and imaginary play where you're a sniper or soldier.
Happy seventh birthday, Baby Bear. Your mama loves you.
Please stop touching my robots.