Thirteen, a teenager. No longer a little boy, the toys are all but gone. You no longer call me “mommy,” I am no longer to call you Cammy. Holding hands is a thing of the past. You have a whole different set of “don’t” rules for your dad, who’s taking the terms of your growing up much harder than me.

You still have a ways to go, though! But that’s a whole other post. Since it’s your birthday, I will keep it light and sweet.

At thirteen, you still have an interest in Pokémon, which I don’t quite understand it. Fortunately, you have given up trying to make me understand. You have become quite the reader, which thrills me beyond words! Your favorite genre is Fantasy, and you’re more than halfway to your goal of 25 books this summer.