You were born to bring the light. You are a light bringer.
You bring more joy than one family deserves. We are – the Ayres and Loper and Wasson and Hawkins families – so lucky to have you. You, our Cooper Scott Ayres, our CooperDiddlyOoper, you are pure joy.
Your laughter permeates every corner, every sound beam of every room you grace with your presence. We have our own language, which involves high-pitched squeaking and crazy hand gestures. Wherever I go, wherever you go…we have our own language.
In the first 9 years of your life, I have seen you triumph and I have seen you struggle. I have watched you learn lessons, some easy and some quite difficult. Through it all, you have an indomitable spirit that simply will not be held down for long. You are a true phoenix.
You are kind to friends, but you are also kind to strangers. Because you are smart and talented (and you REALLY are), people tend to think you have a great deal of confidence. They don’t hear your sweet, “right, Wyatt?” that we hear all the time. You are not so certain, all the time. There is still a sweet, little boy that thought “Bohemian Rhapsody” was “Bohemian Raspberry.”
Recently, I took you, Wyatt, and Henry on a little road trip I refer to as “Finding Stevie Ray’s Roots.” I drove you all to see the house SRV grew up in, which is about 32 minutes from your home with Daddy. I was not surprised by your response. Your eyes and heart were open. You were asking amazing questions. You were interested, genuinely interested to see where he’d been raised to be the brilliant artist he was. There were no mansions, no swimming pools, no fancy cars. Just a small house that bore a musical genius. You got it.
You get a lot of things, Coop. I also remember your first game as a QB. I think there were 5 interceptions, 4 of them were in a row. You were crushed. Usually, when you are crying on the field, Daddy’s pretty serious about getting you to brush it off. Boy, not that day. Daddy kept hugging you, Mommy was even holding her breath on the sidelines. “You can do this, Coop,” we were all saying. It was tough. Damn if you didn’t hit the field again. And again. Getting better every time. Giving it your best. Like you always do.
When you were born, you made this little whimpering noise. I have some videos of it. We thought it was the cutest little noise. You crawled to me on the floor at Grammy and Granddaddy’s house. I have a video of that, too. You put Wyatt in a headlock, declaring he was “Best Friend Wyatt.” Video. I’ve got your first nine years and cannot wait to see the next 9.
I could write about you, your brother, or your cousins for days on end. I am so proud and so grateful to know you. I am so proud and so grateful to be your Aunt LaLa. You make my life meaningful and complete.
I love you.