Levi was kind and caring. Playful and fun. Silly yet sweet. He had a cheeky grin that could lighten your mood and big brown eyes that drew you in. He loved his family, his friends and soccer in equal measure.

Levi came into the world as he went about his life: calm. While the medical complications from my other two children’s births ranged from dire to life-threatening, and correlates to their strong-willed and busy personalities as they navigate through life, Levi was as cool as a cucumber from the very beginning.

Some children require a lot of parenting. Levi did not. Generally, and atypically, he did what we asked of him and when. He didn’t do tantrums, but when he got upset, he liked to hide behind the couch or the curtains in the loungeroom. With his head bowed and arms folded tightly to his chest, he would screw up his face and pout his bottom lip. Yet even in the midst of a sulk, he was endearing. As he sullenly told me to go away, I knew it wouldn’t be long before he would melt back into the soft creature that he was.

Levi was an all-rounder, as good at sport as he was at school. He was creative and crafty. Athletic and smart. Devilishly handsome, he had big brown eyes like chocolate saucers, and long, delicate lashes that he would bat at me to get what he wanted. He had an infectious giggle and a sly laugh that he saved for something that really tickled his fancy.

Levi liked things to be neat and tidy, from his immaculate bookwork to the way he dressed. He took pride in his appearance and was particular about what he wore, choosing his own clothes from a young age. He would never let his hair get too long and liked it cut a certain way – number two at the back and sides and two tracks near the top.

Levi was very tactile. He showered friends and family with love and affection. Kind words and compliments came easily to him and he took notice of everything. He could spot a new dress or fresh haircut at first glance, and if Olivia or Archie did something nice, he would tell them. When he could sense I was having a rough day, he would pat my hand and ask if I was OK. He was always thinking about others.

Levi had a gentleness about him that made him a magnet for anything cute and cuddly. He had a room full of soft toys and his obsession with them showed no signs of abating, even as he turned 8. He adored animals and had a long list of favourites. Tasmanian Devils. Racoons. Penguins. Red Pandas. Sausage dogs. Orange tabby cats. When he received a Starlight Wish, all he wanted to do was pat a Tassie Devil. When he couldn’t do that, he settled for a possum instead. He had a strong affinity with babies and small children and when friends visited with their kids, he would stay with them and play with them.

Levi was sporty and a natural at any game he played. Oztag. Tennis. Cricket. He was always active and had boundless energy when he got moving. One morning in September 2018, about two months before he died, he came into my room to show me his step count. He had already done 13,000 steps and it was only 7am. He had run – fast, it would seem - on the spot outside his sister’s room before anyone else had got out of bed. At the end of that day, he had done 34,000 steps – his personal record. This was despite sitting on his bottom for six hours at school. I think he was trying to prove to himself that even though his world was changing and the cancer was getting the better of him, he was still normal. He wasn’t. He was extraordinary.

There was one sport Levi loved above all else - soccer. Soccer was his life. As soon as he got home from school, he would head straight out the backyard to kick a ball with Ben. He played it every chance he got - at the park, at school, straight after treatment, at training, on game day. If there was anything resembling a ball in the house – a pair of socks, a dog toy - he would kick it. He watched soccer on the TV and played it on the Xbox. His favourite player was Ronaldo, who he worshiped with fervour. Soccer boots, balls, posters, books, DVDs… if it had Ronaldo’s name on it, he owned it. He wore Ronaldo’s number 7 shirt like a uniform, which perfectly matched Levi’s age. Ronaldo was CR7 and Levi became LW7, which changed to LW8 when he died. It’s how we like to remember him, charging around the soccer field with his mates, full of life and potential.