Dear Little Wild Man,
This weekend you’re turning three years old and it takes my breath away that I’ve had you in my arms for that amount of time.
Speaking of you in my arms, I wish I could count the times you’ve collapsed into me, because that’s the way you hug. At first you hesitate, waiting, waiting, waiting to feel safe enough and then your eyes light up and you run full speed ahead. You spring-jump-leap-pounce-pummel-into me until I sink back on the floor from the sudden weight of you. There is no half way. Parenting you has always been like this.
Soon your sister will be old enough to appreciate your big leaps of love. For now, she cries when you hug and tumble her to the floor. But I see the twinkle in her eyes every time when you coming running. She lights up with her whole body, flapping here arms like she’s ready for take off. I hope you can see the light you’ve put in our eyes too, your dad and I. There really is a sparkle to the world that we didn’t have before you.
Right now you are a beautiful mix of big boy and baby, all wrapped up in straggly curls and blueberry eyes. You make up songs, like to have three different beverages available at all times, and prefer to not ever change your clothes. I love how your fingernails are full of dirt from our garden and your shirts are usually colored with a mixture of water color paints and juicy dribbled tomato.
You used to be so slow to scale or slide, but now you scramble up to heights way higher than we can reach. I watch from the ground below and know this is just the beginning.
I’ll always try to give you enough space to roam freely, but just between me and you, I’ll be hoping that you run back to me with a startling hug. At the end of the day dear boy, I’d rather be knocked down from the love of you than standing tall and sure on my own two feet.