I can’t believe my firstborn is 9. (It still feels like yesterday I held you in my arms for the first time.)
Your birthday was September 30, and we moved your celebration to this past Sunday, October 5—mainly so your dad could be there (his hometown football game), and so we didn’t conflict with church or soccer games either. But really, I’ve been in my feelings all week because you’re growing so fast.
The little routines that say so much
You wake yourself up every morning using your alarm clock that you asked me for years ago. You get dressed, come downstairs, ready for the day. And you even try to help your sister get up (I know that’s not always easy). That small, responsible act reminds me you are becoming you. Dependable and mature.
At school, I learned the other day at the parent-teacher meeting: you are exactly who you are at home. You engage, you care, you shine, you can be in your own world (lol). That consistency blesses me.
Activities, choices, and purpose
You’re busy my Pup—soccer practice two days, games on weekends. Taekwondo on Mondays & Wednesdays. Tumbling on Fridays. And then you decided to try out for Battle of the Books club and you have made it to the final round (I’m cheering so loud in my head)! You also joined Bluebonnet Book Club—again something you chose because you wanted to. That means everything.
You didn’t do it for me, you did it for you. That’s strength and self-direction.
Heart posture: kindness over spotlight
Yes, I brag on you—but not because I want others to see me. I brag because I want the world to see you. Your kindness, your thoughtful spirit, your desire to help someone who has less. You offer water, food, toys. You pick up something for me and others when we drop it. You want to take care of me when I’m not feeling well. You open doors. You come back and say “I love you, Mommy” or apologize when you have done wrong.
You carry an old soul in your laughter, in your empathy. I joke I’m raising a 70-year-old man, because your instincts feel seasoned beyond you years.
Balancing strength and humility
In this world, being a Black boy growing into manhood means you’ll face pressures—to be tough, to suppress feelings, to chase approval. But I pray daily for your balance: may you be strong, confident, hardworking—and maintain humility, kindness, love.
You will be challenged. You will be tested. But may your heart always remember: your worth isn’t in what you accomplish—it’s in who you are, and you are enough!
Celebrations and surprises
Last year for your 8th, we surprised you (and Aliah) with Disney because your dad’s game was there that weekend. I swore we wouldn’t throw big birthdays every year (only the 5th, 10, 15th)—but clearly, that was a lie. (Laughs.) I like to call them “celebrations”, and that’s okay.
This year, you wanted an indoor soccer party. We ran into obstacles (closures, too high prices, no call backs). But you were understanding. You told me, “Mommy, as long as my family is there—especially Jaxxon—it doesn’t matter where it is.” That is your heart: loving people over places.
The theme was Naruto, and we celebrated at the trampoline park. You were so patient while I sorted logistics. I wanted that memory to be about joy, laughter, family—not perfection.
Conversations and affirmations
Not long ago you said to me (in a moment of frustration as children sometimes do), “You love Aliah more than me.” We talked after, when emotions were calm, and I explained: “You are my favorite child.” Your eyes lit up, that million-dollar grin spread, and you asked, “For real?” Yes! and then I teased: “I tell your sister the same thing.” You replied: “I know we’re both your favorites.” And just like that—we laughed, the tension melted, and we moved forward.
Every time we talk like that, I hope you feel seen, cherished, understood.
Prayer, hopes, and a mother’s heart
To know you is to love you. You’ve barely changed in appearance over nine years; you still look like the day you arrived, and yet you are growing: in faith, in purpose, in character.
I pray for strength. My strength to guide you, and your strength to stand firm. May your heart always lean toward justice, kindness, humility. May you pursue excellence, but rest in truth that you are worthy simply because you exist.
I brag on you, not to elevate me, but because your story, your existence, is a gift—to me, to others, to the world.
Happy 9th trip around the sun, my Pup. You are more than I ever dreamed.
Love always,
Mommy
BTW: “We need to raise sons who are gentle, who are loving, who are kind, and still strong enough to survive this world.” -Unknown
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