My girls usually jump to pose for pictures (ok, except for on busy street corners surrounded by insects like the other night). They eat up being in the spotlight. Most of them are drama queens and soak up attention like sponges. And then there's my Max. I sit and wonder, once in a while, how I got so lucky to get my boy. Mellow in the antics of four surrounding, adoring little sisters. I love how he'll still give me kisses (although I see him wipe them off once in a while), and he still beams when I go volunteer in his classroom, still loves me to come take him out to lunch. I want to hold on to him at this stage with all my might. He's an awesome swimmer, just started Fall baseball, teases...just the right amount to bug his sisters and most of the time just the right amount to make me smile (I always wished I had a big brother to tease me...growing up I thought my friends, disgusted by their big, teasing brothers, were so lucky). Sticks his tongue out when he's concentrating. Sweet...can't get enough of Lucy's smiles and always looks for her when he gets home from school.
They say in fifth grade they can choose to be in band or strings.
He and his friends decided they'd choose the big old cello.
He carries it to and from school by himself and even practices. I love the sound of those deep strings.
I love this boy. I'm so thankful he's mine.