Hopper Augustus is five years old today, but don't tell him. He's under the impression that his birthday was three days ago and trust me, the last thing you want to do is get into an argument with this kid. You will not win, you will simply wear down after the 287th round. Things that I have lost arguments with him about in the last couple of weeks include his assertions that:
Firetrucks are faster than rocketships.
Saturday lasts 4 days.
Texas is not a state.
If he eats too much food, he'll shrink.
O'Malley (our foster puppy with testicles) is a girl.
And the list goes on. If there's one thing you should know about Hopper is that he never, EVER takes anyone's word for it. It does not matter if you are an adult, a teacher or even a world reknowned subject matter expert. He knows what he knows and you, sir, do not. Occasionally, you might be able to convince him of a thing or two, but usually only if there's indisputable physical evidence ("look Honey, the puppy has testicles, THAT MEANS HE'S A BOY"), or more commonly, you just end up telling him that if he doesn't stop arguing, he's not going to get any ice cream. We tend to stock a lot of Ben & Jerry's for this very purpose.
If you ask him, he'll tell you that his best friend is his brother Rowan. Though that doesn't stop him from beaning Rowan in the head at least ten times a day. He loves dressing up in costumes, though he generally puts them into three categories (Lions, Power Rangers or Robots, no matter what the actual costume is).
He can't resist walking straight through puddles or jumping off of anything taller than six inches off the ground. In short, he's the Hopperist Hopper I know. Which is to say: pretty damn awesome.