Last night I asked him to please stay three years old and he said to me,
"I can't. This is the way God made me."
Knox is one of a kind. My kind, according to my mother. Which might explain why he sometimes makes me the most pull-my-hair-out crazy. But then sometimes, dare I say it, he makes me the most happy?
He is as ornery as the day is long. He charms, he jokes, he sticks out his lip and fills his big eyes with tears just before telling me that his heart is really sad that I've lost my patience after telling him six bazillion times to brush his teeth. His stall tactic at bedtime is to fake cry (but somehow summon real tears) and tell me that he just needs one more hug, sugar, and a high five so that he can sleep better - only to admit the next morning that he was just kidding with the big dramatic production of being scared of the dark.
Oh this boy. A few weeks ago I caught him giving Miles a quarter from his piggy bank. When I asked what he was doing, he said,
"I'm giving Miles a quarter to clean up the toy room by himself."
That was shortly after he had brought me a sack of toys he wanted to sell to earn money for his piggy bank because he "didn't want them anymore." Upon inspection, I noticed that the sack contained toys that specifically belonged to Miles.
But then, what do you expect from a boy who saves a cereal bar for The Joker in the mornings?
Either way, I love my darling boy. Happy birthday, Knox. You are a rich blessing from our glorious God!