Dear Evan,
You’re seven today! I am shocked and amazed, not that time moves but that it moves so quickly. When I look at you, I expect to see the tiny swaddled bundle we brought home or the curious toddler exploring with a pack of dogs. Now you’re a gangly, long-haired, frustrating, brilliant, hilarious little man.
Maybe you’re reading this tomorrow (you’re a voracious reader like your dear ol’ dad) or maybe in 20 years or maybe never. Whenever, here’s a snapshot of your life at six (and now seven!):
Your three great loves are Pokemon, Lego and Minecraft. You intently peruse encyclopiae about the first, and then create your own. That makes me happy. With that, with Lego, with Minecraft, you are giving form to your imagination — even if just digital form — and inviting me into the world in your head. I’m going to be honest: On Saturday mornings, when the rest of the house is quiet and I’m trying to slurp down enough coffee to feel human, your running patter as you describe what you’re building in Minecraft can get annoying. But I wouldn’t trade it, and I’d never stop it. That’s your world you’re describing. I hope you keep that world-building with you for the rest of your life.
You have shoulder-length thick blond hair this year. Even with a recent trim, you look like Star Wars-era Luke Skywalker. (That is, A New Hope. I expect in your future, they’re up to Episode 23.) I love it. I love tucking your hair behind your ears.
I think I mentioned your reading. You read everything. Eating breakfast? Have to read the cereal box. Two nights ago, I only half put you to bed because you started stacking books to read after lights-out. (I leave your closet light on and often find you asleep on the floor at its doorway, book under one hand.) I still read to you, and right now we’re going through A Wrinkle in Time a chapter per night. You get so excited you often read ahead and then bashfully tell me the next night. I hope you know now how much I love that you jumped ahead. I get it. I love that book too.
Oh, and you are as always incredibly funny. You’ve picked up my love for puns, and throw around your own jokes with joyful abandon. I love it. I haven’t laughed so much in ages.
In nine hours, I’ll leave work and hug your wiry frame and smooch the top of your head. We’ll go for Chinese buffet (you’ve already chosen) and then head home and open presents. Spoiler: I got you a Lego version of an X-wing starfighter and a Pokemon digital watch and a few assorted other Lego toys. Lucky seven.
I love you,
Daddy
