Happy 9th birthday Bode!

Bode Boy,

Happy birthday! Your eighth year of life has been all about Four Square, BYU’s Studio C comedy troupe, Clash of Clans and training for American Ninja Warrior (ANW) as the entire world has become your obstacle course. Why walk up the stairs when you can shimmy along the walls? I don’t know the answer but apparently you do.

Third grade has been the best year ever because your three closest buddies–Nicky, Curtis and Kyler–are together for the first time. You’re continuing to excel in math, computers and accumulating Star Awards (the school’s recognition awards). You love piano and Sister Mauger is not only your piano teacher but also your Cub Scout Wolf leader. You’ve delved into Scouting as I knew you would–what could be better than hanging out with your buddies and getting dirty? You quickly earned your Bobcat Rank and Grandma and Grandpa J. came from Utah to see you early your Wolf. Apologies for taking almost a year to sew on your badges; we can’t all be Scouting overachievers.

You just finished your eighth season playing soccer and I love picking you up after practice, flush with excitement. You are a true team player–rarely out for your own glory and the best passer on the team because when you’re able to make a friend successful, that is your success. Your coach paid you a nice compliment, saying “Bode is the only kid who can listen to the advice I’m giving and implement it right away” so here’s for hoping that translates into chores at home. But I can’t complain. You’re a pleaser and when I have to remind you to do something, it’s because you got caught up playing or just didn’t hear me. Apologies to your future wife: you have already perfected the art of Selective Hearing.

You’ve become quite the pumpkin grower and yours clocked in at 325 pounds. I chuckled when I found you at the weigh-off mingling with the crowd, answering questions about your growing techniques. In the future when I have to pinpoint the exact moment your life started going downhill, that was it.

I appreciate how silly, easy-going and responsible you are–I can always trust you to make good, cautious choices. And that’s why you have a mother like me to constantly push you out of your comfort zone. When we were at The Broadmoor, you went rock climbing for the first time (not on some wussy indoor wall). You were so dang nervous but after channeling Mount Midoriyama from ANW, you practically flew up and down that rock face in Garden of the Gods. When I took you mountain biking in Moab, you overcame your fears on some pretty tough terrain and pushed forward long after Hadley had turned back. And this winter at Buttermilk, you skied your first black-diamond (advanced) run and it won’t be long before you’re leaving Mom and Dad in your (white powder) dust.

We’ve had some awesome travels this year. Canada. Mexico. Aspen. Crested Butte. Utah. Even though you enjoy the finer things in life (who doesn’t), when it comes down to it, you’re happiest with the simple things. After spending a few pampered days at The Broadmoor, it was as we were snuggling in the basement watching a movie that you said “Snuggles. Family. A Movie and Apple Pie. There’s nothing better in the world than this.”

Mother-son trip to Beaver Creek

I couldn’t agree with you more, except maybe room and chef service would have been a nice addition. Side note: You’re pretty famous at The Broadmoor as your Emerald Valley “selfie” was published in their magazine. Talk about a legend!

One of our funny-not-funny experiences was when I took you on our First Annual Mother-Son Ski Trip. We had a glorious first night: We checked into the Westin, skied down Beaver Creek with our glow lights in their torchlight parade and dined fireside. And then you got sick so we went home early. But no worries–we rescheduled our vacation over Spring Break. The night before we were supposed to leave as a family, Hadley got the stomach flu so you and Mom left, with the plan that Dad and Hadley would join us when she was feeling better. We had a glorious first night: We checked into the Westin and had a delicious steak dinner at the Beaver Creek Chophouse. Then, it was like a bad nightmare all over again when you threw up that night and we spent the rest of the next day recovering in our fancy hotel room. I demand a redo for next year! For the skiing, not the getting sick; we already redid that twice in a row.

Panty-hose balloon hat

My most treasured time with you is nighttime snuggles in your bed where we just lie there looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars and download our day. Sometimes we’re silly, like when you suggested we play Telephone with your stuffed animals. I started with “Mammoth smells like Fat Kitty,” which they passed along without a hiccup until that silly Orangy the Cat whispered, “Mammoth smells like poop,” sending us into gales of laughter. I treasure the serious times, too when you share your anxieties, usually around finishing your school work and doing your very best. You are driven and it stresses you out to no end when you are not performing at the top of your class. I appreciate that you’re learning early to pour your heart out to Heavenly Father for help and getting baptized was one of the highlights of your year.

As I write this, you are celebrating birthday No. 9 at Lake Okanogan in British Columbia. With Timbits. And family. What could be better? Oh yeah room service and a personal chef. Oh wait. That’s me. I’m so happy to have you as a part of our family.

Love,
Mom
P.S. For a stroll down memory lane, see birthday letters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7, and 8.