Today, my grandson turns eight, and honestly? The world’s been brighter every single day since he arrived.
From the moment he was born, he had this look. It seemed like he knew precisely who he was. He appeared certain about what mark he was going to leave on this earth. A sweet tiny bundle of wisdom, wrapped in giggles, and mischief. He was born during an eclipse. Naturally, he decided that the universe needed a little extra drama. As if the celestial spectacle wasn’t enough, he arrived with the kind of flair that said, “You’re welcome, world.” Even then, he had that look. It seemed like he’d already read the manual on life. He was just here to improvise the rest with style and a side of chaos.
He’s got the kind of heart that makes you believe in magic. He’ll self-regulate eventually, probably, maybe. He’s the kind of chaos you welcome with open arms and a slightly worried glance at your furniture. He says things that make you stop and think, “How did someone so small get so wise?” And then, two minutes later, he’s trying to put a sock on the cat. He’s sweet in ways that sneak up on you. It happens when he holds your hand just a little tighter. It feels like he’s anchoring you to something bigger than both of you. It’s in the way he proclaims, “I love you.” He does this with such conviction. It makes you wonder if he’s secretly running on ancient soul energy. You laugh, you sigh, you melt—and then you hide the markers before he turns the walls into his next masterpiece.
He’s the kind of kid who’ll hand you a crumpled leaf. He’ll tell you it’s treasure, and somehow, you’ll believe him. He’s got this uncanny ability to turn ordinary moments into something sacred. It’s like he’s a sticky-fingered oracle with a can of Dr. Pepper. One minute he’s philosophizing about the moon, the next he’s trying to convince you that socks are optional in public. And honestly? He’s not wrong. There’s a kind of wild wisdom in him. It doesn’t come from books. It comes from being fully, unapologetically himself. He’s chaos with a conscience. A tiny tornado of love, curiosity, and snack crumbs. He’s got that sparkle that makes you so proud you smile from your soul. It also makes you miss him more than words can say.
Being far away from him is hard. I miss the sound of his laugh. You know, the kind that bubbles up from somewhere deep and makes everything feel lighter. I miss the way he tells stories with wild hand gestures, like he’s conducting an orchestra of imagination. He always seems to know when a little extra love is needed. Even from miles away, he’s always with me. He’s part of every silly thought. He fills every sweet memory. He is in every hope I have for the future.
So today, we celebrate the magic, the mess, the marvel that he is. Happy Birthday, little man. The world’s a better, weirder, wiser place because you’re in it—and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
Coco & Pop
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