You have really grown. Really. And the many ways I love you -
I love your plethora of questions. Why is English called English? Who invented Chinese? Why is my skin this color? Why do people enslave others [after reading Tea for Tosh]?
I love to browse through the little note book of yours and admire your inventions and machines.
I love that we go Science Centre almost once a week or at least you pester me incessantly to bring you.
I love your grit. Your refusal to accept things as it appears. Your insistence to probe. Your relentless effort to solve problems that come your way.
I love that you encounter each situation squarely without the burdens of the past and cares for tomorrow. I secretly wish I can be like you.
I love that you never sit and do your Math quietly - but I am sure your teacher will tear her hair out. Your whistling and singing and shaking of your rear end is almost a manifestation of the cogs that are working in your mind.
I love that you can spend a good two hours reading and chuckle to yourself at the national libraries.
I love that you love mommy and daddy and jie jie and the rest of the family so dearly.
I love that you always call me “billy” and I call you “silly”.
I love that without fail, you would always have your favorite cheesy omelette for breakfast.
I love that you are my companion after I drop jie jie off at school
I love that we always say “cheese” when we spot the traffic police uncle up on the bridge.
I love that you are pretty much as slapstick as me.
I love that you love your jie jie so much even though she squirms and avoid you like a plague when you yell her name at the top of your voice every time you see her walk through the school gates.
I love that you would massage mommy’s aching muscles after a long day of driving.
I love that your propensity for life is to the max. Your intensity, your cackling, your love for family….so full for such a tiny one.
I love that you are our Samuel - the miracle that God gave us in the midst of crisis and uncertainty.
I love that you are growing up each year as any child would …and more.
Blessed birthday dear boy, we love you lots lots lots.
Mommy will miss you when you go off to school next year. Hmmm…maybe we will not after all:)