Maffew?

My cousin Sherry was a "first." So was my brother Tim. His son, Matthew, is also a first—the first grandchild for my mom & dad (now totaling seven).

(Background for those who are dying to know: Sher was the first grandchild in my generation on my mom's side; Tim is the oldest of my siblings.)

In 1999, Matthew was my first nephew to grace the world. A few days before Thanksgiving, that same world turned upside-down and officially aged Matthew to NINE. I can hardly believe our family's newest generation is nearly breaching double digits! It seems impossible. I can clearly remember how adorable he was just home from the hospital: black hair sticking out in impossibly cute spikes, dimples already working their magic. Oh goodness was he cute! (and still is)

Every time I think Matthew couldn't possibly be NINE, a little voice reminds me that time has indeed flown. That little voice is Noah's, and spilling out of his mouth at record, repetitive rates is the question, "Maffew?"

Noah's become moderately obsessed with Matthew since June (when he was old enough to actually remember people). When we gather for holidays, he calls out to him regularly and follows him around whenever the big boys allow it.


Matthew is remarkably helpful in ushering Noah away from "no-no" zones, and he's patient in letting Noah wrestle with him. He's a perfect example of a big cousin, no doubt about it.

Back at home in Cleveland, Matthew hangs out with his younger brother, Adam, and keeps busy with a myriad of sports. Last I heard the list included soccer and baseball, as well as swim lessons in summer.

He's smart as a whip too. I remember a time when he wasn't yet five when he read me a lengthy children's book. Though it was largely memorization, I was still mighty impressed that he got all the words and inflections just right. That takes some skill!

You couldn't ask for a better kid, and Noah couldn't ask for a better cousin. Happy (belated) birthday, Matthew!