“What are you doing?”
“I’m seven, Ma.”
He’s the first to spark up a wrestling match, but he’s the first to crawl into your armpit area and snuggle.
He’s an excellent reader, but hates to read.
He loves chicken, even when it’s actually pork (even when you repeatedly remind him that it isn’t chicken, “I love this chicken”).
He’s a young kid, but he has the comedic timing of a wise old man.
His teacher says he has a talking “problem”. Outside of the classroom, his family and friends hear about 4 words.
He’ll follow Lego directions for hours to create the cover photo . He’ll sit for seconds and whip up something imaginative and beautiful from his own mind.
He reminds me with his already deep voice that he’s not a “baby”, but he’ll always be my baby even when his voice actually deepens.
This is what it’s like to know and love Becks: a ball of contradictions, spunk, humor, love, fierceness and my baby.