Eight

• life

That’s how old my Little Big Boy is.

My goofy scrawny scrawnlet with a prodigious appetite and no apparent storage area chose to go to Maylands Water Park for his birthday (aka “The water park we went to for [his friend]’s birthday”) where he had a round of mini golf with Daddy:

Mini golf was followed up by a dip in all of the pools and many attempts at swimming:

We then went to Baskin and Robbins for ice cream. On the way there I told him he was nothing but sinew draped on bone and he indignantly replied “I most certainly am not!” I am often amused by the responses he comes up with, especially when I’m not quite sure where they came from (in this case I’m pretty sure that particular sentence structure is from Nanna).

He’s still building stuff out of stuff (Duplo, Lego, blocks, wooden railway tracks, planks of wood, anything he can get his hands on), he loves PS3 games (the Lego games are a favourite, nanna and Aunty Pip bought him Lego Lord of the Rings for his birthday, it has been clocked and now he is Unlocking All The Characters and Finding All The Things), is rather addicted to his tablet (for Minecraft, Youtube videos about Minecraft and Let’s Play, Khan Academy, movies off the NAS and generally looking stuff up, I should probably set up his email on it too) and really enjoys electronic music much to the delight of a muso friend (he also likes some poppy stuff but hey).

He’s not too big to play in the rain:

And I love the fact that he can do stereotypical “boy” things (running around with weapons slaughtering massive imaginary armies of zombies etc) and also play stereotypical girly things with his sister (or at least happily wear the lovely kit tiara she made for him):

This age range is kind of cool, seeing the culmination of the previous years and catching glimpses of the man to come.

This work by ryivhnn is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License