Last night, I asked him what color he wanted the frosting on his cupcakes to be and he spent - I'm not kidding - ten full minutes looking over his food coloring options. That is my kid. He makes his decisions with unbelievable patient deliberation.
Then I asked him if he wanted to open his presents before school or after.
He said, "Well, maybe just one. And the rest after. I'll open the lamest one in the morning."
He is indeed a nine-year-old.
Coen. After watching Prince Caspian, his first high-budget feature length movie, he cried and cried. After crying he said "Why did that movie make me feel so strongly?"
Coen. When I prep him for leaving a party or other fun event by telling him he'll need to be a good listener when I say it's time to go, he says something like "Well, I might cry, but I'll still be a good listener and go when you say."
Coen. He chooses to listen to A Quick One (While He's Away) by the Who on the way to both school and baseball to pump him up.
Coen. He is tormenting his sister one minute and holding her hand as he escorts her to her classroom all by himself the next.
Coen. My nine year old boy who is sensitive and kind, silly and funny, and can switch hit a baseball with the best of 'em.
|Coen and his friends at his ninth birthday Brewer Baseball party.|