A Dozen Years

When you were a toddler you would stumble into the kitchen in the mornings all grouchy and shaky, your little mind focused on one thing: cereal. It was your infantile version of a coffee addiction. Every morning I groggily poured you a bowlful while half asleep myself and you hovered over that bowl with your quivering hands, dripping milk all over everything. Once your belly was full, you were magically transformed into a happy child and you were ready to start the day. I looked across the kitchen table at at you with your chubby hands and a head full of blonde hair and I smiled. And then I blinked and now you are twelve.

Happy Birthday Tyler.