Thursday, August 18, 2011

:: dear half-decade-old aidan ::

Dear Boy,

I wanted to wait until you were officially good and 5 before writing you your letter - just in case you decided to grow a mustache (which becca says you have) or did any thing new and spectacular.  I don't want to miss anything with you.

This has been a good year for you.  You've changed so much from 4 to 5.  You can read, jump higher, do math and help with tasks around the house.  You're growing spiritually too, with questions all the time about God and love and Jesus.  You're curious about EVERYTHING and I find that I'm reminding myself to be patient more often these days with all of the questions you have.  It's like you can't learn enough, quickly enough.  You're obsessed with anything racing these days: Cars, trucks, tracks, roads, signs, and you recently discovered...NASCAR.  You would sit and watch that stuff for hours if I let you.

Let me say this.  Parenting you is fun, but not always easy.  You're lovable, kind and sweet...most of the time.  But you have this mischievous streak.  You like to push and see how far you can go some of the time.  You bug your sister often.  You like to try to argue/negotiate yourself out of trouble.  But most of the time?  Affectionate, sweet and pleasing.  And, so, SO smart.  You ask so many questions (weak smile) and just really want to learn about everything.  It's fascinating to observe how you absorb information.    You're also learning more about Jesus and faith.  I try to take every opportunity that comes to show you who Jesus is, but am careful to let you move at your own pace.  Death was an interesting subject for you this past year.  We lost 3 precious family members this year - Great Aunt June, Great Grandpa Barrans, and Great Grandma Barrans.  You had so many questions, but seemed content with the idea of them being in heaven with Jesus.  This brought on SO many questions about death (asking us if/when we're going to die, if/when you are going to die, etc).  I've enjoyed talking to you and helping you figure it all out.  There was never any fear, though.  Just interest.

You did way better in swimming lessons this summer.  You're still not a fan of water on your face, but you learned to smile and have fun, which is important to me.  You'll get there.  You are such a boy.  You love playing in the dirt, riding your bike and playing with cars.  You love toots, boogers and potty talk (your father's son).

You enter Pre-K this fall.  Your dad,  after seeking advice from your fantastic pediatrician and preschool teacher, decided not to put you in Kindergarten this year.  This was tough for me (and I still struggle with it a little bit as some of your friends are heading in to Kinder), but I feel at peace with this decision.  You're certainly smart enough (and ahead of the curve, as most mothers think), already reading and doing simple math.  It's just that, well're still kind of small.  Don't get me wrong - you're growing by leaps and bounds (I was just commenting on how long your limbs looked!), but still very small compared to your classmates.  I used to blame social reasons too, but you've blossomed this summer and I don't think that is an issue.  But.  You'll be good and ready when the time comes.

You are blossoming musically.  You still LOVE to play your drums and tinker on the piano.  You always come up with good stuff!  You love to sing "your harmonies" too.  We'll look into putting you in some piano lessons this fall, along with a music class.  I have a feeling you'll head that direction instead of sports/athletics, but I'm cool with that (of course!).  Your daddy and I just want you to be happy and worry-free.

As you're getting older, wiser, and more aware of the world around you, I am a little sad.  It's bittersweet.  You're still so innocent, but starting to notice worldly things, sin and sadness.  I knew it was bound to happen, but I wish I could keep you away from such things - at least for a little while longer.

Daddy and I agree that you are special.  You are our first and are such a source of wonder to us.  You're such a great son.  You're such a wonderful big brother, grandson, nephew and friend.  You're breathtakingly handsome.  You're happy.  You're smart.  Yep, I think this letter about sums you up, as jumbled as it may be.  I'm just so overjoyed to be your mama (I'll be so sad when you decide to call me 'mom').  I'm going to come give you a kiss now -- before you get too big and won't let me!

Love, Your Mommy

Some funny things you said recently:

A conversation with grandma // April 2011
"Grandma, we’re not supposed to talk about penises and boobs because they’re private parts. But I can talk to you about them because you know everything! When boys are little they have a little penis and then when they grow up their penis gets really, really big like my daddy's. When girls are little like Gia they have little bobbles. Then when they grow up they get really big boobs and they are gross! They get all big and round and are really gross!"

Spring 2011:
"Mommy, why are there bad people?  Does everybody do bad things?  Maybe they just need Jesus to help them.  Did you know that Jesus can make them good again?"

Aidan, holding up an apple slice: "What kind of apple is this?" (we'd been learning about different kinds of apples) Me: "A Pink Lady" Aidan: (sets it down) "Gross."

"Do grownups get in trouble?"

"Mommy...I love you."