You are the craziest, silliest person I have ever met. The most inspirational energy I have ever come into contact with.
You won’t eat pasta that has touched the smallest spec of sauce, but will jump up on a stool to stir the batter for anything that goes into the oven.
You love treasure hunting, Diego, movies, iPads, playing soccer, digging in the garden and your baby brother. Watching the way you take The Chooch under your wing protecting him from all harm and smothering him in hugs gives me hope for the future. You are very very caring and empathetic.
You’re taking tumbles, art class, soccer and swimming lessons this spring and love all of them.
You love playing road hockey and insist “I’m Daniel, you’re ‘Berto” to me, but as the Vancouver Canucks are on the edge of the Stanley Cup Final, you still won’t sit and watch the games with me. You get upset if anyone stops a kick or shot you’ve fired at the net. You tell stories of visiting other planets and if something is going to take an amount of time it always takes “25 seconds.”
You are my chicken man, my nugget, my nugnut, my Z.
Let’s be real, Zacharie, you were a surprise for your mom and I. We didn’t plan for you, you chose us and we wouldn’t have it any other way.