An Open Letter

Dear Brent:

I have a few little quips and funny stories to tell, but I feel like I tell too many cute stories, and I forget to share what's important. Another 4 days passed when you were up visiting your Dad. I keep thinking it will get easier, and it never does. And during those times, I don't sit around and think of how you said your dinner tasted like "Chocolate Ca-ca" because you didn't like it. And I don't think of how you keep asking to go to "poo-poo town" (what's with all the poop talk anyhow??). I think about how I can avoid going past your room when I go to bed, so I don't think about the fact that you're not there to ask for one more hug, and instead pull my face down into your neck so that I'll pretend to bite you while you giggle furiously. I think about how many people love you already in your relatively short life so far, and how I both love and hate sharing you.

I watch as you blossom and grow, each day learning new things and seeing a new version of the world. Last night we were reading and talking before bed, and all of a sudden you scrunched up your face in fear and declared "I'm SO scared of dinosaurs!" So I took a few minutes and explained that they weren't around anymore, and that they all died a long long time ago, before any people were even on the earth yet...and that we only know what we do about them because they left their bones, etc. Oh, the relief on your face! All this time I guess you were expecting to round a corner one day and come face to face with one. And why not, they're in so many childrens books and animal books. You're still not fond of alligators, but I promise the odds of seeing one are slim at this point.

This is just one of many things that you will learn in the next few years, things that will change your ever-morphing reality. The puzzle pieces come together, one by one. And even when you think you have room for no more pieces, you notice that one side of the puzzle isn't as complete as you once thought, and many more start adding on. And the thing to remember, is that yours is still different from any one elses. We all view the world based on our experiences and knowledge, and each one is as unique as the many snowflakes.

I want to share with you sometimes, when you innocently demand something different for dinner, or complain about what clothes you want to wear, that there are so many children just as special as you, with no choices, or no food today, or no warm clothes. But those are pieces of the puzzle that you don't need to know about quite yet. I think you would be more alarmed to discover that some people don't have access to Spongebob Squarepants on a near-hourly basis (is it a law that at any given time, it must be playing on some channel?)

There is plenty of time for you to discover these things. One of my biggest hopes, is that you will grow into the kind of person that is thankful for what you have, instead of wishing for what you don't...that you will learn and grow far deeper and stronger than I am capable of.

Until then, I will wallow in your innocence for a spell, while we chase each other in the yard...you as the growling tiger and me as a snake, or cow, or whatever you chose for me this time. I will pretend to hate it when you jump on my back with your sharp claws. I will force myself not to laugh at your 'ferocious' snarling and scrunched up nose. And I will set aside all my grownup responsibilites for a few minutes so that I can properly channel your prey animals. One day, when you're ready, I have stories to share and important things to teach you. For right now though, lets just be 3 years old.