This is the first blog-letter I’ve written to you, and I’m sorry that I haven’t done it before. Lots of other mom-bloggers write letters to their kids, but I haven’t felt the urge to do it until now. Maybe it’s because you’ve finally gotten to the point where I feel like I can have a small conversation with you, and maybe it’s because I’m starting to get glimpses into your little personality . . . glimpses of the kind of person you’re going to grow to be.
Now that you’re expressing your opinions on things, and telling me what you want or how you feel, I’ve come to the realization that you and I only have a few short months of “just-you-and-me-time.” It’s like I’ve gained this new little friend right at the end of the school year, and we’ve only got the summer until it’s time to add new duties and responsibilities to our lives.
Don’t get me wrong; your new brother or sister is going to be a wonderful change . . . but it will definitely make our world a different place. I want to make sure I give the best of myself to you these next few months, or at least make sure you know how heart-squeezingly important you are to me.
You’re just a little guy, but I can see already that your personality is going to be enormous. When you’re in the mood, you can be the biggest ham. You make your goldfish crackers dance to the music we’re listening to, make me imitate your funny faces, and can do a spot-on imitation of your Grandma and Grandpa Blessing’s dogs. All of these things are made more magical by the other side of your coin; that quiet, hard-thinking, problem-solving boy . . . the boy who will search fiercely for that one, missing piece of puzzle, or will fiddle with a new toy until he knows how to work it perfectly.
My favorite part, though, is how sensitive, honest, and kind you are. When that boy at the park hurt himself, you shuffled up to him and petted his arm with a concerned little “Okay?” You two weren’t even playing with each other; you simply wanted to make sure he was alright. You love helping. One of the things that most brings a grin to your face is being able to help me or your dad. “Help you, Daddy?” “Need help, Mommy?” I’ll admit that your helping doesn’t really speed any projects along, but it sure makes them more worthwhile.
I love watching you play with your daddy. It’s like he’s got a little cartoon version of himself to help him build towers and draw pictures. You can both be so serious, and at the same time so goofy. I’m just thrilled to see you turning out like your dad . . . he is one of my favorite people ever, you know.
I love seeing all of these things in you, because I know that you’re going to grow to be a really cool guy. When I watch your Grandma Bonk talk to your dad, I think, “Wow, he used to be a little toddler, too.” That means that she loved him just as much as I love you, and someday, you and I are going to be hanging out together as adults, talking about things other than circles and race cars. I don’t know about you, but that kind of blows my mind a little bit.
Even though I’m excited to watch you grow up and develop preferences and passions, I’m pretty happy to just spend my days with you . . . talking about colors and shapes. Nobody says “PINK!” quite like you do.
So, yeah, things are going to get pretty different around here in a couple of months, but I’m not nearly as worried about it now as I was. I’ve been watching you grow and mature so quickly, and I know that you’re going to be an awesome big brother. You handled all of our chaos this summer like a trouper, and I think you’ll do just the same when we add this new baby to our little team.
Your dad and I love you, Mr. Charlie Warlie, and don’t you forget it.