Open Letter to My 5-Year-Old

I think it’s safe to say that most of my blogs are humorous in nature, because I love making people laugh, even if it means poking fun at myself. I wrote this letter to my son over the course of six months, and I finally got the courage to post it. I write about personal stuff all the time, but this blog is near and dear to my heart, because my son is my morning, noon, and night.

Dear Matthew,

Where does the time go, buddy? One minute I’m holding you in my arms, awestruck by your sweet, innocent face, and the next? I can’t even get a hug from you without having to tickle you into submission.

One minute I’m buttoning your onesie, and the next? My offer to zip your jacket is like daggers to your heart, inspiring a meltdown of epic proportions because you can do it yourself! One minute I’m making you laugh, and the next? You’re making me laugh.

You know what worries me, other than everything? What worries me is someone killing your spirit. You are a smart and funny person. And I am not just saying that because I made you from scratch. You truly say the darndest things, and I often wonder where you learned all this stuff. When I caught you in your room, looking up to the ceiling, asking Santa to please, please, bring toy helicopters to all of your friends and subsequently begging him to promise you that he will, I very nearly went into cardiac arrest. When you caught me crying because my best friend PCS’d and you rubbed my shoulder, reassuring me I’d see her again soon? You were 4 years old, for crying out loud. When did you become so extraordinary? Your heart is, and always will be, my greatest achievement.

I’m supposed to send you to kindergarten in August, and I am terrified. Yeah, moms get scared, too. I’m terrified some snot-nosed kid is going to convince you that you’re not the amazing person we all know you are. What if someone convinces you that you’re not wonderful? What if someone convinces you that they are somehow better than you? It would break my heart. Truthfully, the very idea breaks my heart. How can I explain to you that what they think doesn’t matter in such a way that you’ll believe me?

I know I can’t intercept all of the ugliness that there is in the world, and you will experience many forms of pain. But, I promise you that all that pain is for a reason. Your character will continue to develop. Your ability to empathize will be honed. Your heart will grow. And you know what? Despite all of the ugliness there is, there is also so much beauty. Trust me—I know stuff.

Here’s to all the snot-nosed kids in Kindergarten—may they ever be changed by your good nature.

Here’s to your resilience—may you carry that with you forever.

Here’s to your sense of humor—may it serve you well.

I love you more than anyone loves anything or anyone,

Mom