Dear Hunter,
Two years. Some
people call this number “terrible”, but I can’t say that I agree with
them. In the past several months you
have transitioned from this little baby boy to just a little boy. Every day you seem to do something new and
I’m reeling to just take it all in.
You love “cool” clothes and “handsome” hair. Your favorite pairs of shoes are a neon green
pair of Nikes that you love to show off to anyone who will listen to you as you
point at your “cool shoes”. I suppose I
have to confess that I love dressing you more than anyone else in the
family. I don’t know why but picking out
your clothes is a joy for me. Clothes,
shoes and hats are important to you and you always have an opinion on what you
want to wear. Almost every day we spike
your hair into a faux hawk. At first
your Dad teased me about this, but it has since become your look. Everywhere we go people comment about how
cute you are. With your nifty hairdo,
your cool shoes, your sweet smile and your bright blue eyes, you are one
handsome fella.
Best of all, you have a sweet personality to match
it. You love to make us smile and laugh
with your silliness. You love to help me
with anything and everything. You are
tentatively friendly – meaning you are not scared of strangers at all but you
take your time before you start talking to them. However, you also know how to say “no”. Most of the time it sounds like this, “No. I don’t like it!” But for the most part you tolerate things
pretty well.
You hit the developmental stage I call “word explosion”
not too long ago. You are a HUGE
talker. You can and do repeat absolutely
any word that we say. You have more
words in your word bank that I could count.
Communication is pretty easy for you.
It’s fun to have actual conversations with you now. Many times we will ask you what you played
with in the nursery and you will tell us, “tractors, combines and strollers.”
You love to make us laugh. Maybe it’s a silly dance or putting food on
your head. Maybe it’s a goofy look on
your face. Maybe it’s a silly phrase you
call out at a random moment at the supper table (“Hot Chicken!”). You are quite a ham.
Even with two sisters who may or may not on occasion
dress you up in a pink tutu (sorry), you are all boy. That is such a cliché phrase and truthfully
it has always bothered me. No matter
what you would like you would still be all boy.
But what I really mean is that you love typical boy things like cars and
trucks and football and basketball and tractors. The huge supply of girl toys in our house doesn’t
phase you one bit. You put your tractor
and your combine in the doll stroller and push it around the toy room all day
long. Their lego princess castle is just
another place for you to park your trucks.
And all lego people are “Aurora” (Reagan’s favorite Disney princess) to
you.
It fascinates me that as these two years have gone by,
your sisters have loved you more and more every step of the way. I wish I could capture for you the way they
love and adore you. You are very much
their little prince. They are delighted
to see you in the morning. They laugh hysterically
at your antics and tricks. They think you
are the cutest little guy they have ever seen.
They love love love helping you with anything. They go crazy for your hugs and kisses. They cheer you on through all your trials and
errors and victories. They really do
celebrate every day with you. And you
love them. When they get off the bus
after school you sprint to the door and wait.
You love to do all the things they do and want to be included no matter
what they are playing.
I am learning new things every step of the way with
you. Where your sisters had preferred to
be carried, you prefer to walk. Where
they wanted to ride in the shopping cart, you want to push it (the big ones –
not the kiddie ones). Where they wanted
to swing, you prefer to climb. Where
they wanted to color, you would prefer to play catch. You keep me constantly on my toes, wondering
what will come next and what things I should allow you to do and what things I
need to say no to.
When Maddie started school this fall, you became my
little sidekick. When we are home, you
are always in whatever room I am in. We
go places – you and I. We do things
together like prayer group, coffee break, and errands. We are a duo.
I love every minute of it. I love
having you with me no matter where we go.
I love talking to you one on one.
I love being the one you turn to during the day. I love your sweet little hand tightly
gripping mine.
You are strong.
You are speedy. You are
bright. You are calm. You are cooperative. Yeah, you get in trouble now and then, but
for the most part I have things pretty easy with you. And still I wonder, just like I have wondered
since the day I found out I was having a boy, what will you be like down the
road? What kind of kid will you be? What kind of teenager will you be? What kind of college student will you
be? What kind of man will you be?
I don’t want to let go.
But every single day, with every single lesson, I teach you more and
more how to live without me. I am ever
letting you go. It is not something I
could do were it not for the promise that no matter what Jesus will be with
you, holding you close. You are so very
loved and I hope you grow each and every day to know that truth more and more.
I love you, little man, so very much.
Love,
Momma
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