Love letter to my five year old on the anniversary of his birth

I am in love with a blue eyed boy.
And The Man knows about it.
Even better, he's okay with it.
And he understands completely that I will toss his butt over in a heart beat for this boy.
My beautiful blue eyes Buddha baby.
Who is turning five tomorrow.
It is so hard to believe every birthday that my babies are aging, are growing, are becoming the people that will one day drive me to the nursing home and kick me to the curb.
Buddha is my sandwich child. Literally. He's the middle child, wedged between the baby girl and the oldest boy.
And he's very fond of sandwiches, so both analogies fit perfectly.
In fact, Boo loves any food as long as its given to him frequently.
This year I've taken to calling him a Hobbit due to his voracious appetite. He hits the floor hungry, and wants not only breakfast, but second breakfast, brunch, lunch, midday snack, late afternoon snack, dinner, after dinner snack, and we've caught him in the kitchen in the middle of the night on a bender.
If his toes sprout fur, I'll know I was given a changeling at birth.
Not that I'd give him back.
Once you're mine, you're mine. Just try to escape.
And Buddha B is definitely mine from the top of his fat little head to the toes that I'm anxiously observing.
He is the child who makes me laugh with silly dances and odd expressions.
He is the child I have to chase for a hug and a kiss.
He is 1/3 of my heart, walking outside of my body.
I chuckle at his raspy voice yelling, "Look what I can do!" as he flops on the floor in some bizarre pantamine.
I smile when, every night, far earlier than his siblings, he curls up and goes to sleep with the chickens.
And I curse that early to bed motto every morning when he follows it with early to rise.
He is a soother when his brother simply cannot cope and the protector when his sister might need one. He is a balm to my soul on the hard days.
He is not my most affectionate child and he doesn't routinely stun me with bizarre facts he's learned from Gods knows where, but he is the child who pacifies, who calms, who reminds us that there is joy in life and there is always something to laugh about.
He is perfect in his own way.
Boyishly sweet.
Impossibly bright.
Charming like Clark Gable at his finest.
And he's stopped running like Charlie Chaplin on crack.
He is the filling in my family's oreo cookie--my favorite part.
Happy birthday, Buddha my love. May your day be bright and brilliant, just like you.