Things you do - to my son
admin June 18th, 2010
It has been a while since I have written a love letter to my son, and this is unfortunate as he is more fun now than he has ever been.
So here goes:
Things you do:
You see wonder in the world around you. You point out birds, and trees, trucks, airplanes, sirens and flowers. You marvel at rocks. You show me, force my face upward, to look at how the wind moves the leaves in the trees. You grin in the middle of a popsicle. You demand I order a rabbit back into our yard.
I suggest that we head to the park, and you throw your hands in the air. “DAAA!” you say (the best form of yes), grab my hand and lead me to the door. You know that 10 minutes is longer than 5 minutes and 5 minutes is longer than 1.
You kiss where I am hurt. You hug my leg. At night you ask me to sing to you, and sometimes you sing along. You love trains and especially their signals. You make high-pitched car noises as you move a car along the couch and quietly woo woo whenever we drive by the tracks. At night you rest your head on my shoulder. You put my hands back in place if I try to move them. You giggle and play and make up jokes. You run down hill. (Uphill you like to be carried.) You listen and respond to explanations. You sneak you dinner to the dogs. You splash in puddles and ask me to splash too. You talk to me. You ask me questions. You want me near.
I see you learn and grow. I watch you think. You are sweet and good, kind and strong. You like mischief. I tell you these things in the dark. I whisper in your ear. You are a joy to me. When you are happy, I feel happy. When you marvel at the world, I marvel with you. I have replaced my former life with a life with you. You make this life better. You are a gamble that I won.