Dear Hunter,

This morning I heard you in the other room, tearing paper, crumpling it, rustling around. My instinct was to yell at you from the other room, a stern, "What are you doing in there?". But instead I quietly peeked around the corner, and saw your small frame bent over a toy, carefully wrapping it in colored paper.

"Mommy, look! It's for you! It's your birthday! It's a present! For you!" You beamed, holding up the messy, little package, the "gift" peeking out the sides. We opened it together, and you announced, "I'm going to play with it now!" running out of the room with your old toy, made new again.

You are always so thoughtful like that... you love to give, love to anticipate, love to excite us with presents and toys, make-believe meals, and dramatic charades. Your little feet slapping on the hardwood brings a smile to our face, even before you enter the room. Your grin melts us. Your laugh delights us.

Last week you jumped off the patio steps at a friends house, and your forehead hit the concrete first. You sported a big 'ol bandage for days afterwards, although initially you only allowed me to put it on if daddy had an identical one. He happily obliged and your banged up forehead went from a woe to a wonder in a matter of minutes! You asked me multiple times the following day to lift you up to the mirror to "see my band-aid!!!"

You like four-wheeler (which you pronounce: fo-naw-naw) rides and bike rides, play dates with friends, and pretending to go hunting. You are so much like your daddy. You like pizza, ice cream, and working hard. You build "houses", "fix" furniture, and swing a hammer with the best of them.

You are our blue eyed, blond-haired little slice of heaven, babe, and we couldn't love you more.