Dear Arthur,
Yesterday was your birthday. You turned eight. You were so terribly excited for this birthday, so much so that you insisted upon doing something fun. You chose ice skating but rink had closed for the season. Instead, we ended up inviting your whole class to bowl with us at the local bowling alley on Sunday, the day after your birthday.
Apparently, a few other people in your class had birthdays about the same time: Andrea and Salvador and Ja'Caigh. I brought homemade chicken and sausage tamales and fruit with ground up chili for your class. Everyone wanted more and received seconds of fruit, but not of the tamales. It was noted by several of your classmates that I would have to make many, many more next time because they were so delicious.
On Sunday, we hoped for a big turnout. Your past birthdays had not been well-attended, so imagine our surprise when 11 kids showed up! Even Aunt Gloria came down from the farm to see you and wish you a happy birthday. She fetched your pizza and root beer and even reminded you when it was your turn to bowl. She took pictures of the two of you together. She had a great time, noting that someday we would have to go bowling with Papa. ("And get Papa drunk!" you exclaimed. She laughed.)
You bowled a 78 - which was pretty good for an eight year old. After eating cake and opening some brand-new Lego kits, you thanked everyone for coming and handed out the Mixels we bought as a party favor. Everyone was excited to take them home and build them, saying, "Arthur sure likes Legos!" Later that afternoon, you declared that this was the best birthday ever and that you wanted to go bowing again next year.
My dear, sweet boy: for this next year, I wish so much for you. I wish that you continue to grow into the good person that you're becoming. I wish for you to become more confident and more capable in your abilities. And I also wish for you to be yourself, always.
Blessed be.
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