He is nothing like my first son. Kevin Leman has him pegged. And much of that 'second born,' 'middle child' stuff is entirely what makes Meiners one of my all-time favorite people in the world.
He is spirited and daring, athletic and competitive, but he'll lose on purpose if it means someone he loves wins.
He is smart and funny and charismatic. His laugh is contagious and he's a little bit wild. But still fashionable.
He is a good friend. A good brother. A good son.
He is my number one snuggler, hugger, kisser. Yet he is all boy.
He likes his hair long. Sometimes he lets his dad get it cut.
He owns a skate board, a bike, a basketball, a soccer ball, a volleyball, baseballs, golf balls, nerf guns, and he stays by my side while the big kids ride roller coasters.
He eats five waffles in one sitting. He prefers pancakes. Sausage PLUS bacon, please. Can we have pizza? Bacon pizza, preferably. And McD's cheeseburgers with bacon have been trumped by BK's double stacker. (He's a lot like his dad like that.) He gags on cauliflower. But he'll eat it. When I tell him to.
He came to Pookie's 5K Sunday morning to cheer her on. But absolutely refused to hold the sign proclaiming, "Girls Rock." His ears turned red and he hid behind his dad when I asked him to let me take his picture with his teacher after the run.
He is the cat's meow. And I get all teary just sitting here thinking of him not being 6 anymore. Finishing first grade. Getting taller and just as lanky. Looking over tow-headed toddler pictures and wondering what a year will bring.
Knowing I am absolutely, by far, without a shadow of a doubt, the luckiest mom in the world. Because Meiners in my son.
Happy Birthday Baby Boy.
Mommy loves you.
Always.
