I’m a tad behind (try two months) on your birthday blog, but better late than never, right?

This year, you started your official education with three-day preschool. Grandma and I got to see one of your programs, in which you played a Tyrannosaurus Rex. You delivered your lines with aplomb, and when you had to parade in front of the audience, you (unlike the other preschool tyrannosaurs) held up your hands to mime T. Rex’s attenuated front limbs. The teacher told your mom that every year, she has one or two students who are WAY into the dinosaur unit, and this year it was you.

You memorize easily, and we all continue to be amazed at what you recall, sometimes from a year or two ago. Last week you recited a six-line poem after hearing it three times. Occasionally you forget information, but you have a hunger to learn and absorb as much as you can. You still love snakes, and you constantly ask questions and add to your store of knowledge. I take credit (or blame, depending whom you ask) for that. 🙂 Horned vipers are your favorites, but you also know the widest and heaviest and longest snakes. You’re intrigued by my gecko and salamander, too; you love watching them eat and don’t understand why they won’t do it on command.

Your other preoccupations over the past year have included castles, dragons, and pirates. At Christmas, I drew castle after castle to your exacting standards (the bigger the better; they all needed one central building with a drawbridge, and towers and turrets filled with windows and arrow slits, bridges over the moat, buildings crowding the edges of the page. If I tried to get creative and vary the design, you’d inform me imperiously that you did not like the results). In the mornings you would come into my room and wake me up: “Aunt Monique, I need you to draw me a castle.” I’d groan, “Can you wait until I’m awake?” “No, I need it now,” you’d say, holding out blank paper and a marker. We collaborated on a treasure map, too, complete with palm trees and an Indian village (I’m told this is from Peter Pan, although oddly I’ve never read the book or seen the movie), sharks, a whirlpool, a sea monster…

I would make these drawings for you, and later we’d see you at the table trying to replicate them, and we were all impressed by how well you did, how faithfully you captured lines and colors. Now you’ve graduated to creating your own drawings, and you’re a talented, creative artist who crafts detailed fighter jets and helicopters and fire trucks.

Last week I drove with you, your siblings, and your mom to see your Oma, Opa, uncles, aunts, and cousins in Indiana. En route, we stopped at a “travel oasis” that had fake palm trees. You asked what palm trees were, and when I said they were the trees on pirate treasure maps, you said wonderingly, “Oh, I never saw a real one before.”

I think you impressed everyone on the trip with your sweet spirit and caring attitude toward the younger kids. You take very seriously your responsibility as the oldest cousin, stopping the merry-go-round if someone wants to get off, trying to work the seesaw, alerting an adult when a smaller person needs help getting onto or off the trampoline.

You’re still a pretty awesome guy. You’re one of my favorite people, and you always will be. I love you, buddy.