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Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Post 300

My darling boy. I do love you so much. I'm sure you're sick of hearing it. I just spent the last four days with you without Daddy. I loved every second of it. You were so good. It was like a dream. And I miss you so much today. I can hardly believe how much I miss you right now.

I love seeing your compassion for things. You really have a tender heart and I hope your father and I nurture that characteristic so that will always be so. We recently got a kitten and my heart just melts whenever I see you care for her tenderly. When we first brought her home, the way you pet her was a little awkward because you were not used to handling such a small, fragile life. But now you are fine with her. You know how to play with her and pet her gently. Of course you are still a boy and you chase her and yell at her "NO Kansas!" when she appears to just be sitting there, but she's actually doing something you don't like (like sitting there? I'm not sure). But you kiss her good night and say good bye to her when we leave the house. And you told me you love her more than Mommy and Daddy. Which didn't even hurt my feelings because I just love that we raised you to have the capability to love something so much.

This will be a story that I have no doubt will embarrass you sometime in the all to near future. But I'm going to tell the story anyway. You love Build-A-Bear. That's not so bad in and of itself. After all, you are five. But this is the latest Build-A-Bear friend you picked out, complete with a pink dress and pink shoes. To be fair, you liked the shoes because they are Sketchers like yours (although your Sketchers are NOT pink). I think it's awesome that you don't care what color something is - if you like it, you like it. And you say that now you have three Build-A-Bear friends who are boys and one that is a girl. That's how simple it is to you.

As another example of how simple life is for you: we helped our friends unpack their moving truck last night. Salty showed you a giant Lego Star Wars box and said if you were good that he would let you help him put it together. The five adults knew that meant AT ANOTHER POINT IN TIME, since the thing has like a million pieces to it. So none of us thought to mention to you that we wouldn't be putting it together that night. (Also especially considering that four out of the five adults had been awake for like 36 hours). But when we were done unloading the truck, in a house full of boxes, you asked if you were a good boy and when I said Of course! you thought that meant we could put the Lego set together. It broke my heart to tell you that we couldn't do it and then watch you melt down.

Your imagination is starting to take off. I hear you talking to yourself, to your "friends" (stuffed animals), to Kansas, to your toys. I love it. I pretend not to notice because if you see me watching you, you will stop. But I'm listening.

I am sad about Kindergarten. I'm sad that Daddy won't be your main caretaker anymore. I'm sad that you are no longer a baby. Even though you insist you are a Big Boy, which you are, you are still just a tiny person to me and I want you to be my baby forever. I hope that we don't require too much of you. I can only imagine that since you are an only child and you spend most of your time with adults that you will grow up too fast. It is my heart's desire for you to enjoy your childhood to the fullest extent possible.

You still let me shower you with hugs and kisses and cuddle with me, but I see you changing in other ways that let me know you are growing up. You don't like to just hold my hand anymore. You associate it with crossing the street, so you will only hold my hand to cross the street and then squirm your little hand out of my grip the second we step on the sidewalk and say, "Mommy I don't have to hold your hand now because we aren't in the street." You are right, and I let go, but I still want to hold your hand. I like it.

I wish I could say a million more things so that you would know how much I love you in this very moment in time. My heart just aches from almost bursting.

3 comments:

moo said...

I feel everything you feel, too. It breaks my heart to see him grow up, but yet it stretches my heart past its limits to see him so grown up.

When they say "parenting is hard" I'm sure they mean this.

MommyWizdom said...

What a sweet post! :-)

Rachael said...

What a beautiful letter to your awesome little one. I love that Build-A-Bear he picked - it's pretty cool looking no matter what color it is! And my heart broke a little when I read the lego story too. He sounds like such a wonderful little guy.