Today we are celebrating your seventeenth year on this planet. The celebration doesn't look quite like it used to; there is a lot less cake and a lot more homework, but, we are just as joyful about your existence today as we have ever been (I do long for the days of more cake, however).
In the past, I have written about your joy for life and about how your laugh can start a chain-reaction of hilarity; neither of those things have changed. I've written about your sensitivity and your ability to charm animals and old people, which, as you may have guessed, also remain intact. I've written about your kindness and your intelligence and your humility. I've written volumes about how loved you are and about how loving you are. I have used thousands of words to express my pride in you, son, and, still, I could find tens of thousands more, because, you are just that special.
However, I also know that reading doesn't thrill you in quite the way that it thrills your mother, so, I will make this brief: I hope your birthday is magical and that you have a hundred reasons to laugh, today. I love you with my whole heart, Cub. And I am so very blessed to be your mother.
Happy birthday, handsome!