2 Years Old. A Letter to & Roundup of Wyndham (Image Heavy)
It is I. I who posts days late. Perhaps one day I will actually make the milestone posts on the day of, not anytime soon though. Nay. I suppose that’s just not how I roll.
My baby boy is now officially a toddler. Entering into boy-hood. My word but it has happened fast. The love I have for him is so intense. So overwhelmingly delicious and gratifying. Soul completion right there. This having children stuff. Two years ago this past Tuesday, November 15, our son Wyndham was born.
My Dear Sweet Wyndham,
I suppose I should stop calling you baby boy, although really – you will always be my baby. I’ll stop saying it out loud when your cheeks have less pudge, your toes are no longer corn nubs and your joints are no longer creased with all of the chub of your counterparts. When your wispy curls take on more weight and length, when your words and choppy sentences turn into full-on thesis statements. Only then will I stop calling you baby. Maybe. And just what the heck am I doing envisioning you growing up anyways? Silly mommy. Making herself all teary-eyed.
Two! You turned two last week! Oh the joy of putting a birthday party together for you. Of watching you arrive home in your little tweed suit-jacket to be surprised by all of your family and friends. The pleasure on your face at that exact moment was heart-bursting. That was your most favoured present. The presence of your community and your cars. Holy heck you love you some cars. And books. And trains. All good stuff there. Oh, and of course your (uhm, ours?) iPhone. Not gonna lie.
And so, sweet boy – it is with great and everlasting love that I wish you the very best second year every little boy deserves. Your daddy and I are so consumed by our love for you, have been from before you were even born. Your intelligence, your humour, your compassion, teaches and inspires us every day. You are seriously so dang smart. And handsome! Cute! My goodness! Your eyes, fringed by those ridiculous lashes are only going to serve you well in this life my boy. Especially with the ladies. Wherein you should behave yourself mister.
We’re on a path of potty-training and lesson learning in the land of tantrum throwing, but never wavering is our respect for your young, inquisitive mind. We pray for the continued patience to meet each and every challenge your incredible mind throws at us, with the belief that all of this? It means you are brilliant. Strong. Passionate. So. Let the good and wild times roll!
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