It’s all over my Facebook feed, the sadness that comes with seeing your little ones grow. I can concur that it’s not always easy watching my kids get older, but I’m not sad about it and I never will be. This is why I wrote my firstborn a little letter for his birthday this year. Don’t worry, he didn’t JUST get a letter. We took him rock climbing too. (Because he’s big enough and it’s awesome to do fun stuff together!)
A Letter To My Firstborn on His 7th Birthday
Where has the time gone? I know the days go by slowly for you with homework and chores and the weekend so far away. But for me, they zoom past. Not long ago you were in love with Thomas the Train, referred to McDonald’s as “Bak Bak”, and were completely and utterly convinced that your dad could really make coins disappear into thin air.
Today you’re a complete wise ass with crooked front teeth, a head for numbers, and well on your way to the teenage years. Your dad is still your hero, and I hope he always will be, but those sweet, silly toddler years are behind us.
So many parents mourn those days with pictures of their chubby toddlers and hashtags like #toobig and #stopgrowing, but I would never with that on you. I do miss the days I could easily carry you on my back when your little legs got tired. I miss the nights you crawled into bed with daddy and me because nothing was more comforting than our presence. I miss the times the only thing that could make you sad was the end of Elmo’s World. But instead of grieving for your yesterdays, I look forward to your tomorrows.
To daddy and my utter frustration, for all your intelligence, your the world’s biggest space cadet. You also have a super hard time following directions right now. All of a sudden you want privacy and are possessive of your toys. But just like your constant ear infections, the pains of potty training, and those night terrors, this too shall pass.
This year you embraced the family love of football and hiked more miles up a mountain than most of us could walk on flat ground. Your new love of reading had opened so many new worlds! You went snorkeling for the first time and met your first manatee. You also started at a new school this year, overcame your fears, and made new friends.
While it would be easy to wish you were little again, I find myself instead eager for the upcoming year. I love listening to you talk about how solids, liquids, and gases move. I love how you’re dying to visit China. Your ability to grasp sarcasm is getting impressive, and I’m eager to hear what zingers you come up with in year seven. Your strong and capable, and we’re going to do a 5K together this year because your legs are almost longer than mine and so is your endurance.
I’m so proud of the person you’re becoming. I just can’t imagine mourning you growing up because, frankly, the best is yet to come.