Sixteen.

My Nathan turned sixteen years old this week. I remember when I would climb up his closet shelves to get him diapers when he was a baby, when we would play in our treehouse in the backyard. We would walk outside on summer mornings with snow boots and shorts on so we could be explorers, or bug collectors, or professional rollerbladers/scooterists. We left sliced tomatoes outside so we could catch the leprechauns, we studied and wrote essays about endangered animals (my little animal-lover), and every other week, we were spies on a secret mission. We would read in each other's beds at night and drive my barbie jeep in the front driveway.  We've been through everything and every phase of life together: our pogo-stick phase, our throw-your-tennis-ball-at-the-house phase, our go-to-the-bathroom-in-the-neighbor's-yard phase (yikes), our hipster music phase, our motorcycling phase, and every little phase in between. As far back as I can remember, this boy right here has been my best friend.

As I spied out the front window while he opened the car door for his first date, I realized how quickly time is moving. My little white-haired boy sitting in the boat with his six chins resting on his life jacket has turned into my handsome six feet, six inch man; a man that I look up to and admire more than he could ever know. His attitude of service, his kindness, his tenderness, and his loving heart have always been such an amazing example to me. I look at him and realize that no girl on this earth will ever deserve him. He is amazing in every single way. He loves life, and everyone loves my Nathan.

Na-bo, you're my best friend in the whole entire world. I wish you could see how absolutely incredible you are. You amaze me, every single day you amaze me. Thank you for always loving me, even when I'm not very lovable, and for being the best brother I could ever wish for. I'm so, so thankful you chose to come to our family.

Happy sixteen years, handsome.
I love you to infinity and beyond.