Dear Son,
I have to apologize for telling you to act you age. You do and you do it very well. You are very good at pointing out when I mix up words or when my grammar isn't spot on. As all nine year old boys do, as I am told, you are excellent on taking things literally. I might tell you to wait a second so you count to one and then insist that you have waited the allotted time and are ready to be served. Yet in all that nineness I am glad you can now be home for a short while. I will restrain from smothering you in kisses when you make an airplane out of an upside down picnic table for your sister. Sometimes you might forget to use the volume switch on your voice, I know it is hard to do when Indiana Jones is about to discover the secret treasure. No matter what dirt, grime, and grease is on your skin and clothes it is you that I am thrilled to see. So, go on and be nine for, in a few years I'll wish you back where you are now. It is twelve I really fear.
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