When your daily activities are in concert with your highest priorities, you have a credible claim to inner peace. – Hyrum Smith


Dear Not-So-Baby-Boy,

Dear not-so-baby-boy,

Caleb, you turned two about a week ago.  I have put off writing this blog post in the hopes that I could somehow suspend time.  Maybe if I didn't write about it, it didn't actually happen…

But, alas, it has happened.  You have grown.  Your baby legs are longer and stronger, pulling you up stairs without a pause in between.  Your words are recognizable to strangers.  Your will has made itself known - and what a strong will it is!

Somehow in the monthly hair cuts, the weekly nail trimmings, the nightly baths, and the endless diaper changes, I missed the big picture.  I failed to see how your brow no longer banged against the table edges because you could see over the top.  I didn't notice you sticking your arms through your sleeves without my help.  I heard your sentence without registering the effort it took for you to string those three words together.

My sadness of losing my last baby to childhood is eclipsed by the joy of watching you grow.  You are a light.  Your bright blond hair is like a natural beacon, drawing people (especially Asian people) to you.  And once they see your sweet face, they are hooked.  You have an absolutely devilish grin and the biggest, roundest, deep blue eyes I've ever seen.  Your chubby cheeks beg to be squeezed and stroked.  In fact, it happens so very often, you don't even pause anymore when passers-by touch your face.

You adore your older siblings.  Unable to pronounce the letters "p" and "r," you call Parker "Cocoa."  Maddie is "Yah-yah," a nickname she gave herself.  For some reason, you refuse to say Jack's name, and only grin when we ask - just one example of your playful, willful personality.

You have an absolutely unnatural obsession with shoes.  You try on anyone and everyone's shoes.  In Asia, most people leave shoes outside the front door.  You wait until we have a houseful of guests, then sneak onto the front porch, and parade around in the treasures you find.

Every morning you wake and chant "Poo!  Poo!"  Thankfully, you don't mean you need a diaper change.  You are trying to tell me you want to go swimming.  At 6:30.  You are a fish, son.  You hop right in with no thought as to the consequences.  Thank heavens for the flotation vest Grammy got for you!

You imitate every single noise you hear, often with uncanny accuracy.  Be it a baby crying, a cat meowing, or a jackhammer breaking up concrete, you shout, "Mom! [noise]!"  You are thrilled when I guess correctly.  You remind me of a character in the movie Police Academy…

I love the way you cuddle and snuggle and rub your cheek against mine.  You love to push me into a lying position, peel my shirt back over my belly button and lay your head on my stomach.  I think you would crawl back inside if you could.  You love to hold hands when we walk.  You love to be carried.  You often surprise others with your affection, pointing to their faces and make kissing noises (indicating you want a kiss).

You have traveled more in your 24 months on this earth than I had in my first 37 years.  You've been to the U.S., Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, China, Taiwan, Vietnam, and recently Cambodia.  You are an amazing traveler.  Each trip gets better and better.  You wait patiently in the immigration lines, you stay buckled in your seat for take off and landing ("bump!"), you nap, and you've stopped kicking the seat in front of you.  I'm so proud of you!

I pray that your life would continue to bless others with joy and love.  I pray that you will continue to grow and thrive.  I thank God every day for the gift of you.

Happy birthday, little boy!


Your birthday pool party
Your birthday present


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