A Letter to My Son

Sweet Pea-

Sometimes I have to remind myself that you are 3 ½. What I mean is that sometimes I feel like you have been a part of me forever – and sometimes I feel like you were just born a week ago. I can’t remember what I did before you came and I have to remind myself that you just keep getting bigger and more independent. I’m doing my best to keep up with you without holding you back. It’s more difficult than tightrope walking across a mountain range with your feet tied together and balancing an elephant. While chewing gum. Seriously, it’s that hard.

You are the hardest and most important thing I have ever done. Looking through your baby book I see we have documented everything you have ever done. But there are no lines in a baby book for “the spaces between” – the things you do that are not particularly milestones but are things that endear you to me. “The Spaces Between” are events that we did not have a camera for, things we did not rush to call grandparents about. These moments I think are more important than when you took your first steps or when you cut your first teeth. Those are things that happen to every child – spaces between are things that only happen to you, and you were sweet enough to share them with your mommy. Here’s what I mean:

October 18th, 2005 – the day you learned the First Amendment: You had recently gotten in trouble for saying something that was not nice and not appropriate. I won’t elaborate, but we’ll file that under the first time you used a “bad” word... There was a debate on a news program concerning the White House leak of a CIA agent to the news media. The issue of free speech was introduced on TV while I folded laundry and you played – so I thought. Later you came to me and said “Mommy, you can’t get mad at me for saying nasty things. This is America. I can say what I want.” Me, again not prepared to have this kind of argument until you were at least 12, stared at you and wondered why I even turn on the news. “Baby, you can’t argue free speech in this house until you start paying taxes – or until you vote. Until then, it’s censorship city for you.” And then you brushed your teeth, kissed me, said your prayers, and crawled into bed with your stuffed spotted doggie.

Why don't people create baby books for the spaces between? My son, I believe it’s because the authors of those have never lived with a child. Certainly not a child like you – and for that I am so blessed to have been given this honor.

I love you more than anything.

Mommy