Happy Birthday, Little Jogger!

Eight years ago today, the Medium Little Jogger came into the world, wriggling and wailing, and he's been wriggling and wailing pretty much ever since.

He's a high-octane bundle of creative energy. He's most likely, of the four, to be racing around the house, making car noises, or gun noises, or just noise noises. He can be very sensitive, and when his feelings are hurt -- which is frequent -- he'll lash out and call someone a "meanie" or an "idiot." But such tempests rarely last long. In a few minutes, with a little distraction, he'll be back to being your best buddy.

He is not blessed with great patience. He'll moan hungrily when he's ready to eat, even if his last snack was not that long before. Anticipation of something fun feels like "hours" or "days" or even "a hundred years." When he does find something to do, he will get so absorbed in it that he can't tear himself away.

He loves to build and create. He can turn a pile of scratch paper and a roll of tape into a spaceship, and use it to take over the house. He amuses and amazes his Sunday School teacher by working dragons and monsters into every creative endevor. Who knew the New Testament had so many space aliens?

Above all, he's a young man who lives life intensely and fully, sucking the juice from every moment. I hate to see him grow up, if it will mean losing that joy.