Eight!

No, nine, already... How the time flies. Or rather gets siphoned away down the sink of my advancing years...

You are nine already, would you believe... The last year of your single digit age. There won't be any come back once you pass the double digit threshold.

I know that we tend to worry a bit too much about you (especially Mum), that we mollycoddle you a bit too much too (especially Mum), wonder about what the future has in store for you (especially Mum) and laugh with you at the dodgy jokes that mark a scatological phase you seem to be reluctant to leave behind (especially me).

We are trying to understand your world. Mum especially who is pouring vast amounts of energy into trying to secure the best resources for you, who is reading loads about the Asparagus thing and seeking advice from tons of people.
I am not always as dedicated as she is. Call it denial, call it laziness, call it trying to be more or less the same Dad for you and the Loolas.

We know that you have to put in tons of effort to adapt to our world. That it takes longer. That what comes instinctively to other kids, you will have to learn little by little : body language, facial expressions less subtle than when Dad screams his face off or laughs heartily at a fart joke, the importance of not taking all that is said to you at face value.

We'll be there. I think that Mum and I strike a relatively good balance between the overly worried and the definitely too lax.

We'll be there for you.

You are our no longer small boy and we love you.

As for your present, I had no idea that it would take so little time to come from California (less than a week), while the last eBay purchase from the UK took almost 3 weeks.
We could not face putting you through the mental torture of knowing that your present had arrived a full month before your birthday.
Especially because a big dufus could not help exclaiming "Jeez, that was fast, Luca's birthday present has already arr... doh!"


The photo that his Mum will like better.