7-10-2020
Seven times around the sun, and the circles get faster and faster. Sweet baby boy, today is your day. I woke you with chocolate chip pancakes, carrying a tray to your room and kissing your plump cheeks awake. Barely opening an eye, you reached an arm out to me and wrapped it around my neck, holding me in place against your soft skin.
Caleb. My baby. My not so baby anymore, thumb sucking, mischievous little dancing ninja. Sometimes I don't know why I even try to write birthday posts, so hopeless is the task of attempting to capture the essence of the angels in my life in single, yearly blog posts. Mom guilt kicks in, and I think to myself, why didn't you write about that hilarious thing he said last week? What was it again?
You are marvelous and maddening. You are all grown up and still little tiny. You are all twinkling eyes, eyebrows raised as you dance around the rules and then red-faced and tearful because Jack called you a meanie when you were "only being a little mean!" You are two-wheeling bike rider and a run-for-your-life-spider-hater. You are a math whiz, multiplying and dividing, telling us the rules about positive and negative numbers. You are a baseball playing, Lego building, chess playing, tickle monster. You are a hater of baths but a pirate once wrestled into the tub. Animal loving, toothbrush avoidant, screen seeking, snuggle expert. You are the stealer of my heart.
This morning, you happily watched extra cartoons while I cleaned out a closet. I came across a huge bag of Halloween candy and snuck a mini candy bar into your palm with a conspiratorial wink. You threw your arms around me and said, "Thanks for making today so special, mom!"
"It should be special," I replied. "It was the day you were born, and the world became a better place."
You thought for a moment and said, "No, mom. Every time a person is born, the world gets a little better."
That. That right there. Can I bottle that? I want to bottle it and shake it up like a soda can. I want to rip the top off and watch it burst and scatter like glittery confetti, reaching all across our torn nation. I want everyone to have that beautiful world view.
This world won't change over night. But little by little, inch by inch, as I watch you grow, I can rest in the knowledge I am watching our future become a little brighter. Caleb, I love who you are and who you are becoming. I am so glad God allowed me to be a part of your amazing life. Please go on loving the world and people with abandon. Please see the good in every person. Please just keep being you, sweet Caleb. Happy birthday, angel.
Love always,
Momma
Seven times around the sun, and the circles get faster and faster. Sweet baby boy, today is your day. I woke you with chocolate chip pancakes, carrying a tray to your room and kissing your plump cheeks awake. Barely opening an eye, you reached an arm out to me and wrapped it around my neck, holding me in place against your soft skin.
Caleb. My baby. My not so baby anymore, thumb sucking, mischievous little dancing ninja. Sometimes I don't know why I even try to write birthday posts, so hopeless is the task of attempting to capture the essence of the angels in my life in single, yearly blog posts. Mom guilt kicks in, and I think to myself, why didn't you write about that hilarious thing he said last week? What was it again?
You are marvelous and maddening. You are all grown up and still little tiny. You are all twinkling eyes, eyebrows raised as you dance around the rules and then red-faced and tearful because Jack called you a meanie when you were "only being a little mean!" You are two-wheeling bike rider and a run-for-your-life-spider-hater. You are a math whiz, multiplying and dividing, telling us the rules about positive and negative numbers. You are a baseball playing, Lego building, chess playing, tickle monster. You are a hater of baths but a pirate once wrestled into the tub. Animal loving, toothbrush avoidant, screen seeking, snuggle expert. You are the stealer of my heart.
This morning, you happily watched extra cartoons while I cleaned out a closet. I came across a huge bag of Halloween candy and snuck a mini candy bar into your palm with a conspiratorial wink. You threw your arms around me and said, "Thanks for making today so special, mom!"
"It should be special," I replied. "It was the day you were born, and the world became a better place."
You thought for a moment and said, "No, mom. Every time a person is born, the world gets a little better."
That. That right there. Can I bottle that? I want to bottle it and shake it up like a soda can. I want to rip the top off and watch it burst and scatter like glittery confetti, reaching all across our torn nation. I want everyone to have that beautiful world view.
This world won't change over night. But little by little, inch by inch, as I watch you grow, I can rest in the knowledge I am watching our future become a little brighter. Caleb, I love who you are and who you are becoming. I am so glad God allowed me to be a part of your amazing life. Please go on loving the world and people with abandon. Please see the good in every person. Please just keep being you, sweet Caleb. Happy birthday, angel.
Love always,
Momma
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