Wednesday, August 04, 2010

Dear Will,

As second born, you don’t get nearly the focus and attention your brother did when he was your age. Don’t think I ever forget about that, because I don’t. I’m mindful of just how special and unique and wonderful you are everyday. In fact, today I filled out your paperwork for preschool which gave me pause to think about what a big boy you are becoming. It also made me answer some questions and note some details about you that my feeble brain may not remember in 10 years so I thought I’d record them for you here.

You are an early riser, my love. Every day you jump out of bed in the so-very-early 5:00 hour ready to start your day. Sometimes you come in our room and tell me you’re “Ready!” That’s when, me, in a coma-like state and you, ready to take on the world, come downstairs together to start the day. You watch cartoons and eat enough breakfast to fill the bellies of 3 grown men. After all, that breakfast will likely be the only solid meal you’re going to eat since you typically sleep through lunch and goof around through dinner. But boy, when there’s chocolate ice cream to be had, you’re my guy.

Your facial expressions and the way you get your pronouns wrong always makes me smile. My apologies to all the girls you’ve called “him.” (Don’t worry, they often don’t get them right either.) You are opinionated about your clothes – “This DO NOT match!” you tell me intently until I convince you otherwise. And I can always count on you, my little daredevil, to jump from the top of the couch or balance on the edge of your bed's footboard so you can reach something. Still, you haven’t broken a bone but I’ll bet that’s somewhere in our future.

Even though you’re three, you still have the most delicious chubby cheeks I’ve ever seen. Only on rare occasions do you dish out the "scrunchy nose" face when you're being funny and impetuous.  And even then, you make me beg.  You are prodigious with puzzles, fitting pieces together like a 7 year old. You’ve mastered the art of drama even at this young age. Sometimes you’ll fake a fall to get your brother in trouble (who usually deserves it) or gasp and look wide-eyed at something that’s surprised you. And, as one would expect, you play with Sam with all the vigor doing so demands. You, little boy, can hold your own and I know that toughness will serve you well.

Between your raspy, deep baby voice and meaty little thighs, it’s hard not to be in love with you. Keep up the good work growing and becoming exactly who God made you, my Willa. I’ll be right here beside you watching in adoration.


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