My Sweet Wessy Bug,
You are 10 years old, which is such a magical age. I love how you're both grateful and open to seeing things from other people’s perspectives. As you've gotten older, your confidence has grown, and you're more willing to try new things. You remain incredibly agreeable and approach life with a naturally positive attitude—something that makes being around you a joy.
When I suggested we buy a Christmas present for a child in Auntie Rach's class who had lost his mom—instead of getting gifts from the Hights—you enthusiastically agreed. You even added, “We're already spoiled enough and don’t need anything.” That warmed my mama heart.
You’re someone who, like me, genuinely needs and values rest. You love to sleep, and you really love to eat. One of the funniest parts of our trip to Namibia was watching how much food you could pack away—just like The Very Hungry Caterpillar, you were always still hungry. It became a running joke, especially after the half chicken at Okapuka and the massive bowls of spaghetti at Okakuejo.
Your perception of your athletic ability still runs ahead of reality—but that’s part of what makes you so endearing. This fall, during flag football, there were a few games where you missed catches and threw a couple of interceptions as quarterback. I braced myself when I asked how you felt about the game, worried you might feel discouraged. Without hesitation, you said, “I did great.” And honestly? That kind of self-compassion is something we could all learn from.
This fall, we made the choice to move away from your high-achieving, low-playtime flag football team and try something new. You joined a team with minimal coaching and structure—which gave you the chance to step into a leadership role. Your passion for football runs deep. You love watching the NFL, playing Madden on the Xbox, and this year, you finally got to attend your first Seahawks game. After months of lobbying, you may have finally convinced us to let you try tackle football next year.
You played your first season of lacrosse this spring—you enjoyed it and showed a lot of natural skill and field IQ. You still love to recount your epic sports moments and your fails alike.
Kingston and Chase are still your besties. This year, we hosted a big birthday party at the house, and all ten of the friends you invited came. It was such a kind and fun group—I'm glad you’re a part of it. You impressed everyone with your dance moves at Auntie Manda's wedding this summer.
When you're sick, you don’t make a big fuss—you just lay low and say very little. A bout of pneumonia this fall had you curled up on the couch for days, barely speaking. One night, I checked on you in bed and found you drenched in sweat—that's when I knew something wasn’t right. A twisted ankle, on the other hand, comes with some theatrics. Lots of limping and repeated announcements of the injury.
Your indecisiveness remains, you have strong writing skills and craft the most beautiful thank-you notes. You still love board games. We leaned hard into Rummikub this winter and you’ve become a total mastermind. You like to hoard your belongings. Rather than ripping into your birthday gifts, you keep them boxed up neatly in your room. Same with money—you save it and rarely spend.
Some of my favorite moments this year came during our Namibia trip. Like when you kept your promise to follow up with the vendors in Swakopmund, wearing your straw hat as the sun set. You’re such a thoughtful spender—you waited until the Penguin Town gift shop to finally cut loose. I found you in the crowded store with a basket overflowing: three stuffed animals, jewelry, and paintings for your room. You had saved your money and knew this was your moment to splurge—no regrets.
You have a sharp, natural sense of humor and often drop the best one-liners. We were watching a Christmas movie where Santa delivered a 4-wheeler to a kid, and without missing a beat, you said, “Looks like I know what I’m asking for this Christmas.” Another time, we saw our neighbor’s tiny white dog walking by in an orange jacket, and you casually remarked, “I didn’t know Bowie works for NASA!” Your timing is spot-on, and your wit adds so much joy to our everyday life.
As you grow older, I hope you always hold on to the best parts of who you are right now—your generous heart, your big feelings, your quiet strength, and your sense of wonder. You have a light that shines so naturally, and the way you care about others, lead with kindness, and stay true to yourself is truly special.
Watching you become more of you each year is one of the greatest joys of my life. I’m so proud of the boy you are and excited for the young man you're becoming. I’ll always be cheering you on—through the big wins, the tough lessons, and all the messy, beautiful in-betweens.
I love you with all that I have.
xoxo,
Your Loving Mama
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