My perfect son. I can’t believe you are three. Already. So wise in the world. Just this morning you said aurora borealis and requested a trip to Alaska. You are already far brighter than even I. I should skip the ABCs and dive straight into Latin. Nothing gets passed you. Especially sugar. You know all my good hiding spots. This is genetic, I fear.
The good news is that, amidst the overwhelming sea of Legos and Play-Doh…even a shiny blue tricycle…you loved the socks I knit for you. They were one of the last gifts you opened and you squeaked with joy, declared your approval, and requested a second pair for Christmas (Yes, dear child, I will get right on that!). And, they fit. Perfectly.
This is the first time we have “matched” when it comes to clothing, both proudly sporting our hand knit pairs to Play Group yesterday, my own socks slightly faded from more washing…a reminder for mom to always adjust the water temperature from warm to cold, I suppose. I did note your socks slipped down toward your ankles as you zipped about (you do LOTS of zooming!). I blame the yarn…perhaps a stretchier blend is needed for the next pair.
Socks aside, I am so lucky to be your mama. We have had such a fabulous year together. We have talked to no end, discussing all sorts of important matters. Lately you are fascinated by Bigfoot and want to know if he will be your friend (yes, he will). You also want to know what sorts of creatures live in the forest near our house (all kinds!), and you pretty much know every animal on the planet by sight, as well as the sound they make and related life history facts. Just an hour ago at nap time, you surprised me when you identified an allosaurus by sight in one of your books. Genius!
Currently you want to be an astronaut when you grow up, so you can fly a rocket ship. I told you I wouldn’t be surprised one bit, and you asked me if I wanted to come with (of course I do!).
You love fixing, fishing, and swinging. Flying kites and digging (dirt, sand, or mud will do). And I love you.
You have been such good company this past year. We have had enjoyed many good adventures together, and you have grown into quite the car traveler (we do spend a lot of time together in the car), especially when we have cell reception and can listen to Toddler Radio or some such station on Pandora. I love listening to you sing along to all the silly songs, your voice so pure and joyful, breaking rhythm only to note a passing construction-related vehicle (you can identify them all and are quick to correct me if I ever confused a grader for a bulldozer, for example).
We often discuss our many future adventures together. All the places we hope to someday go (me: Italy, you: the moon!).
I can’t wait.
In the meantime, I am so fortunate to be you mother and I am endlessly grateful to the universe for this wondrous privilege. Although I do look forward to eating peacefully in a restaurant, sleeping soundly through the night, and going more than an hour without sweeping up piles of crumbs, Play-Doh bits, and discarded sticker scraps from the floor. In the meantime, stay safe, stay close, and stay forever mine.
Happy Birthday, Reed.