If a thing loves, it is infinite. ~William Blake

Max turns 5 this week.  We had a party with his friends on Sunday (Superbowl Sunday).

Max's Party

 We celebrated all day on Monday, first by opening family presents.  He took pretzels to share with his class at school.  Max’s sweet tooth seems to be disappearing and it wasn’t that big to begin with, but he loves pretzels!  Dan picked him up from school and played with him and his new toys.  I came home from an out of the ordinary Monday meeting and we played cards, cars, nerf basketball, and legos. 
 
 
And we had a birthday dinner at Happy Joe’s Pizza.  This has been Max’s Birthday Dinner Restaurant three years running.  He had no interest in that ice cream, by the way.
 
 
And so we did this and we did that and there were a lot of friends helping us to celebrate our favorite boy and there was a lot of family calling to give their love and there were a lot, lot, lot of presents from dear ones near and far.  And hence, there are a lot, lot, lot of legos and DSi video games and cars and stars and art supplies and board games and karabeeners and bungee cords and rope and pulleys and padlocks and safety cones.   We are abundantly blessed by it all.
 
And I want Max to remember those details.  What I want him to know is that he belongs with us.  I want him to know that we recognize that when a little boy wakes up and comes into your bedroom fully dressed at 6am on the day of his birthday party and you tell him he has to wait until 7 to get up and he does it patiently laying next to you in bed that his patience and calmness is astounding.  I want him to know that we recognize that the quiet way that he says “I love it” and “it is awesome” and “thank you” for each and every present that was given to him is a sign of his pure, thoughtful heart.  I want him to know that when he’s trying to figure out how many books about stars he can buy with the $20 his grandparents sent him and I tell him that one book would be $5 and ask how many he thinks he can get and he responds without a blink “oh, 4 books” that I was testing him to see if he can really do math even though HE IS ONLY FIVE.  I want him to know that we know these things about him are not our doing in any way.   These things about him are truly his nature and we are abudantly blessed by it all the time.  He belongs with us for ever and always and we love him more than infinity even if he loses his patience and math skills and thoughtfulness, although that would stink so I hope not.
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