The Bigger They Get

Dear Son One,

I can’t believe how quickly time has flown and how incredible (and incredibly tall) you are. It has been 264 months since you appeared on the scene, snapping my tailbone like a twig in the process. You were a beautiful baby, despite the horrible photo taken of you in the hospital – the photo we didn’t mail to family with your birth announcements because we didn’t want to worry them or prompt them to obtain unnecessary genetic testing.

It did concern us that your sole focus during most of your childhood seemed to be food. You demanded cereal in your bottles at only five weeks. (Or at least that’s when we caught on. You’ll have to forgive the delay, we were horribly sleep deprived what with not having slept AT ALL for, oh, about FIVE WEEKS.)

When you were two and I took you and your sister to see Bambi, your sister was traumatized by the death of Bambi’s mother (Sorry, Sweetie. Somehow I’d forgotten that part.) She was full of questions about death and Heaven. Were you traumatized? Not at all. Once you had asked whether there is food in Heaven and had I assured you that, yes, there most certainly is, you were like, Great, thanks for clearing that up. Now what’s for dinner? You were always a grazer, eating the crumbs from everyone else’s breakfast plates and then asking when we would eat again and what we were having.

What we didn’t know then was that you were fueling the mother of all growth spurts – an 18 year odyssey resulting in grocery bills that left us speechless. Those bills, though, were nothing compared to the hits your poor head has taken on door frames, chandeliers, and ceiling fans. When Dad and I told you you could do anything you wanted to with enough hard work, so reach for the stars! we didn’t mean it literally. Just so you know…

You were such a great little kid. So goofy and silly, and so much fun to be with. You still have a wonderful sense of humor and I love how you can make us all laugh. You have always been a joy to be around, except for a few times, a lot of times between grades 8 and 12. I will say, though, that I got a brief glimpse of the delightful, goofy little guy you had been when you were coming out of the anesthesia after your wisdom teeth had been removed. It was such a joyful moment for me, watching you joke and giggle like your long lost little-boy self that I admit I tearily asked the doctor to knock you out again.

He said no.

You weren’t so much fun during your first two years out of high school, although this last year has been a joy. It just took you a little long while to find another job and we get that. Just like it took us a little while to get over the whole underage drinking thing and the constable at the door thing and, really, when you think about it, you’ve never been arrested or ended up in the local paper’s Police Briefs like some of your friends, so it could definitely have been a lot worse. Believe me, we’re glad it wasn’t. What’s a few gray hairs between pals, right?

You have grown up to be a terrific young man and it has been a pleasure watching you transform from cute-as-a-button baby to sweet toddler to adorable little boy to surly teen to surly slacker and now, to a mature and impressive guy. We have loved you SO FREAKING MUCH at every age and stage. You’re the best.

Happy Birthday, sweetheart!

We love you more than you will ever know.

Mom

This entry was posted on Monday, July 28th, 2008 at 1:44 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.