Happy Birthday! I can hardly believe that my little brother is six years old. Now you're not so little, are you? As you would say, "Wow, that's old!"
I remember when you were born. We were in the hospital waiting room with family, doing what people generally do in a waiting room--waiting. Waiting for Little Blessing from God #6. Daddy walked past the door in full surgical uniform, and we were so excited. Our little brother or sister was about to be born!
After the surgery, we got to go back to the hospital room and meet "the baby". You were so cute; your little face was red, round, and chubby. It was love at first sight. "Boy or girl?" we all asked. And you know the answer. It was a boy, Thomas Chapman Moss, our little arrow. Welcome to the world.
You grew and you grew. You liked cookies, books, and a stuffed dog you named Jack. You carried him everywhere. I remember that you also loved to play outside. Like your brothers, you built forts and hideouts. However, being a very literal little boy, you didn't always catch on: "Why are the Indians going to tie us up? And why is Samuel an Indian?"
I loved you--and still love you--from the tips of your dirty, farmboy toes to the top of your ninetieth percentile "Moss head".
Now you are six. You still love your Jack, but like big boy things, too, like spelling and computers. Sometimes, I catch you helping your older siblings with math (you're the boy who wrote the 19 multiplication tables, just for fun). I joke that I'll have hurry if I don't want you to pass me. After I catch you reading my world history textbook, I wonder if it was really a joke.