When I sit down to compose these letters to you and your brother, I feel stunned by how fast the year has gone. Other parents have told me that as you get older, the months will zip by me at warp speed – and it is true. I find myself feeling bewildered by your six years and all the growing-up you seemed to have done in the last year alone. We took the training wheels off your bike last spring, you swam without a life-jacket last summer and a week ago, you read an entire sentence to your dad at the breakfast table. Every time you hit a milestone, my heart is filled with so much love and so much pride, I feel like it will burst. (This feeling balances out the days when we might not like each other so much, like the day last week when I took away your brand new Zhu Zhu pet as a punishment for sassing me. But that’s in the past now, right?)
Over the last year, we’ve discovered great friends in our neighborhood – you and Owen have spent a lot of time playing with Roman, Lily, Simi and Maggie. We’re lucky that all of our back yards are connected, so we parents can give all of you kids a little freedom to play outside on your own. What this means, of course, is that I have become familiar with your friends, just as other parents are getting to know you and Owen. At Norm and Ginny’s annual fish fry last August, Maggie’s mom and dad were telling us how delighted they were by your boyness. Will, you really are a “boy’s boy,” meaning, quite simply, that you uphold all the stereotypes associated with little boys. During the warmer months last year, you often rode your bike between our house and Maggie’s yard, wearing your helmet, your camouflaged rain boots, and a mismatched outfit of mesh shorts and a muscle-man t-shirt, with a plastic play sword tucked into the back of the neck opening. You were usually muddy and probably sweaty, and you often rode your bike one-handed because you had a garden toad tucked into your other hand. I delight in the qualities of your boyness, too, mostly because I think it reveals everything wonderful that makes you YOU: your curiosity, your lively imagination and your love for the outdoors.
In September, you and Owen started Kindergarten, and your dad and I requested that the two of you be placed in separate classes. I agonized with this decision for months, and I fretted about the possible negative affects it could have on your foray into elementary school. However, just as so many times before, both you and Owen surprised me with your adaptability during what I expected to be a difficult transition. You were both fine, of course, and I realized that by giving you different worlds during the day, your individual interests became clearer to me. For instance, you absolutely love music. Mrs. Peterson’s music class is one of your favorites in school, and every week you fill the house with your sweet voice, singing all the songs you learned during her classes. One of my favorites was a little ditty about thankfulness:
ThankFUL, thaaaaaaank-ful!
I’m thankful in the morning,
thankful at the noon-time,
I’m thankful when the sun goes doooowwwwwwn!
I catch you humming and singing throughout the day, especially when you are alone in the tub! You can actually carry a tune, too, which makes me hopeful that someone in our family will be a singer (I always wished I had a better singing voice).
Finally, Will, I want you know how much I adore your loving personality. You still like to sit on my lap when we read stories at bedtime and you often hold my hand on our walks to school. A couple of months ago, we were having a hurried morning – Dad was out of town for work, and I was trying to juggle making lunches, making breakfast and tracking down clean clothes for the day. You woke up that morning, dizzied by my flurry, and you kept asking me for “a snuggle.” You followed me around with your blanket, patiently waiting for me to sit down with you for “just a minute.” We never did get around to it that morning, and after you left for school, I realized how disappointed I was that I didn’t take you up on your request. Because I know that someday, in the not-too-distant future, you’ll want no part of me in the mornings; you won’t want me to hold your hand on the way to school and you’ll likely read books to yourself at bedtime. That day I promised myself I would always make time to snuggle with you, let you sit in my lap with your blanket, and savor the stillness of dawn before the day becomes heavy with obligations.
Last but not least, a current list of your favorites:
Favorite song: “I Gotta Feeling” by the Black Eye Peas, “Hey Ya” by Outkast
Favorite television shows: Avatar, The Last Airbender and Dinosaur Train
Favorite books: Drummer Boy by Loren Long and Alexander and the Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst
Favorite activities: playing Legos, riding your bike, swimming, playing baseball
Favorite foods: PB and honey sandwhiches, pears, Kraft Macaroni & Cheese, tacos
Happy birthday, my darling boy!
Love,
Mom
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