seven

My middle child. 

My baby boy. 

He was my biggest baby at 9lbs, 5 oz.  His was an easy pregnancy and an easy delivery (despite his size).  He was the best infant, and by far the worst toddler.   

He is the one that gives me the most grief. 

He is the hardest to figure out, the one with the deepest emotions. 

He loves basketball.  And LeBron James.  And Nike Jordans.  

He has the  most patience with his little sister but not as much with his big brother.  And yet, if anyone messes with Jackson, they will regret it.  He is the toughest little boy I know.  And the coolest kid, too. 

He stopped playing with toys.  I don't know when it happened.  Nowadays, it's sports, nerf guns, and video games.  He loves to play outside, doesn't even care if it's cold.  He prefers to throw a football or play HORSE in the driveway.  Anything sports related.  But long gone are the days of action figures and legos.  The other night, at his sleepover, I noticed a bunch of his friends had stuffed animals they had brought along with them.  Cameron has not slept with a "lovey" since he was 4.  (Except he still prefers to sleep in "Mommy's bed")  He has outgrown it all, and it makes me so sad.  He is only seven.  Yet he thinks he is so much older. 

He has the neatest handwriting.  And loves it whenever I tell him that. 
 
He still loves to be tickled and to wrestle with Daddy.  

He is a natural at all sports, especially on the baseball field.  I love to watch him. 

I love those rare moments when he is talkative.   When he forgets that he's trying to be cool and he's just a 6 year old
who still asks me to sing to him at bedtime (even if it is just a ploy to stay up a few more minutes).  

Friends : Cameron, Russell, & Nate