My Son Finally Runs Out Of Gas

After opening birthday presents yesterday at 7:30 AM . . . throwing the baseball for an hour with me . . . then playing a tee ball game at 12:45 in 98 degree weather (in which you hit a lead off home run and made several great plays at first) . . . going to the Circle the Block party with Monkey Fuzz from 2:00 - 5:00 (Ummm, attendance was a little light, certainly because of the heat, but then blazing hot summer is my favorite weather. Most people disagree so I guess I should be more understanding.) . . . then having a birthday pizza party at home after that . . . .

. . . followed by having friends over for a sleepover; a sleepover in which the sleeping didn't really start until after 11:00 and the waking happened before 6:00 (as you began torturing your tired sleeping friends by acting silly) . . .

. . . and then trying out your new birthday gifts - the scooter and the skates - with your friends until they had to leave . . . and then running through the slip and slide for an hour or so . . .

. . . and after that spending four hours at the pool this afternoon . . . in 95 degree heat, only a slight relief from yesterday . . .

. . . so that by 6PM you ended up like this in the living room chair:


. . . and even after all that I'm still stunned that you're not begging me to throw the baseball, or go for a bike ride. Because you have no off switch and your energy is unbounded. Because you're fun and you're funny. Because of that and so much more, I love you.

I'm glad to see you take a little rest. I almost want to say you need to watch more TV.

Happy 7th birthday, TB!

Love, Daddy.