Thursday, December 13, 2012

To my son, on his 2.25th birthday

Dearest Elijah-boy,

Tomorrow you will be two years and three months old.  I meant to write this letter for your birthday, but these days, time seems to slip through my fingers like sand and it is all I can do to watch it fall.  It is said that the days are long but the years are short, but sometimes I feel like the days are short, too.  Each day brings new adventures for us to share, and for that I feel infinitely blessed.

This past year was a big one for you, as you decided that it was finally time to walk.  You are still a bit unsteady, and ever so cautious, but you are also brave.  It was not many months ago that you would fall down, then lay on your back yelling, "Mommy, help!", but now you fall and get right back up, always telling me, "Mommy, I okay."

You are my sweet boy, always wanting "snuggle time" when you wake up in the morning or from nap.  I have to stop myself from feeling a sort of pre-nostalgia for these moments of tenderness that I know will be gone before I am ready.  You are already an amazing big brother after only two months on the job.  I can see that "Izzy-izzy" a star in your little universe and I can't wait to see how you two will be once she can actually play with you instead of just being a resting place for your toys.

You are becoming so independent, wanting to do everything yourself.   Just today you insisted upon pulling your chair up to the counter and helping me cut the sweet potatoes.  You love telling guests, Ï have my own broom."  As soon as we get home, you always take your jacket off and then tell me, "I take my jacket myself." Now if I could just get you to hang it up...

You are my music man.  You love to sing "Amazing Grace" and "Alleluia" all day long, with some very loud percussion accompaniment.  Sometimes I wouldn't mind a little peace and quiet, but mostly I just enjoy your enthusiasm.

These days, you are certainly testing your limits, and when we tell you something you don't like, your favorite line is, "No!  Don't talk!".  You can throw a tantrum with the best of them, and once you get past the throwing, screaming part, you always want to take a break with your binkies and lay on Mommy and Daddy's bed.  You break my little heart when you are in time-out and you say, "Sorry, Mama.  Mama feels sad." I know you are trying hard to learn how to handle your big and tumultuous  emotions, and I pray every day that I can find the best way to help you do that. 

You, Elijah, are my beloved son, my firstborn, with whom I am always well-pleased.  I look forward to each day that we get to spend together.



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