Eleven. (Say it ain’t so.)

He is such an easy boy to love.

Known for his entire first year of life as The Model Citizen, Bergen Hawkeye has been charming my heart for eleven solid years now.

I’ve written about him tons and tons of times.  The funny things he says and his kind manners and his all boy not-enough-fear adventures.

I love being his momma.

“For your birthday son, what would you like to do?”

And he says, “Play Legos with my friends.”

Done.

And done.

(Talk about your low key birthday parties.)

Bergen is handsome.  He’s smart.  (A mom can say these things about her boy.)  He knows more about space and robots than I ever will.  He reads non-fiction books just for fun because he loves to know stuff.  He’s interested in trees and birds and Legos and water color paints and rockets.  He doesn’t like to not know where I am and he is the quickest volunteer in our home when I ask, “Can anyone lend me a hand?”

Bergen is easily distracted and has a tendency to pick up a novel and start on page 110 instead of page 1.  He memorizes facts quickly and strays from his assigned task at the slightest provocation.  He is witty and clever and can deliver a joke with a flawless punchline right on time.  He hugs me nearly every time we meet in the hall and he still hasn’t grown too old for good morning cuddles and late night chats.

I don’t care for acknowledging the rapid passing of time reflected in my son’s increasingly high age numbers.  I want him to be my boy — while simultaneously wishing for him to grow capable and man-like in his own time.

I love him.  His heart and mine are knitted together in a special way that is all privilege to sit under.  He is a boy who radiates joy with a grin that comes quickly and stays long.

Happy 11th birthday Hawkeye.