A Letter to my Son || August Ransom

To my son on the eve of your 3rd birthday-

You. You are totally unadulterated you.

You know the words to all Daddy's songs. You ride in the car with sunglasses on, bopping your head to the music. Every new song, you ask the title and memorize it. You pick up any longish object- bubble wand, stick, tennis racket, remote control- and play your "keetar" (guitar).

Sometimes when you run, you kick your feet up until they knock you in the bottom. You love to run. Your face is lit in wonder at the world around you as you spread your arms and sweep the yard.

You would eat "sis-al" (cereal) all day if I let you. You love French fries, fruit, smoothies and jasmine rice.

You love sleeping with us at night and naptime. You snuggle up with Daddy and wake up smiling.

You love leaving the house. "Where we going today?" Today, you woke from your nap and asked me to go to Target and buy a vacuum truck.

You beckon cousins, uncles, friends to play "hey you kids, this way." And you know to pry aunts and uncles for snacks and treats.

You ask how people's days are, thank them for playing, share pretend food from your kitchen, and reply "I'd be happy to" when a request for help is made. Your heart is big and welcoming.


What a year it has been...

You potty trained and moved to a twin bed. You became a big brother. You learned the alphabet and your numbers and your colors. You started washing dishes, taking showers with Daddy, learning directions to different parks. You started setting the table and getting snacks for you and Boston.

You went in a bat cave and up a mountain and met talking Mickey and Mary Poppins and Pooh Bear. You classified your teddies by mood and Happy Sneezy won the spot as beloved teddie. You discovered the Bernstein bears and the world of Playmobils. You named every park in town and ran naked on the beach.


This year has been brimful but there were many moments I was not able to savor. You weren't two for a month when your brother arrived and spun me into an 8 month sleep deprived fog. I missed a lot of you this year. But on this, the last day of being 2, I watched and played and laughed and giggled with you. I savored you as son and I as your mother. Daddy took Boston up to the bath and you said you'd wait for me because "monkey man is always with Mumma." Perhaps my fogginess this year didn't harm you as I feared it might.


Dear one, you will never know what you mean to me and how you bless me just by being you.

Keep the wonder.

Your mumma

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