A Birthday Letter for Miles
I want you to know truly how kind, and talented, and cute, and sensitive, and graceful, and perfect you are as you transform from a baby into a little boy. The world will no longer count your age in months, but years. Today, you still adore your “Dada”. You say “pick up” when you need to be held and soothed, and “down” when your curiosity must be quenched. You beg for “5 Minutes” in the cutest little voice when I say bath-time is over and you say “water go bye bye” and protest once the tub is drained. You are both big and small, mature and infantile. You are, for the first of many times in your life, a boy between stages.
You amaze me. In a few short months your ability to express the ideas in your mind have grown exponentially. You sit with your crayons, deep in concentration, and draw birds,fish, turtles, and, my personal favorite, the moon, in avant garde style. I tell you not to color the walls, although I’ve let you color everything else, including my face. In fact, I love your artwork so much it is the only thing I have hung on the walls of our apartment. You know the entire alphabet, all the colors of the rainbow, basic shapes including pentagon and hexagon, and can count to ten. You can work an iPhone better than most adults and have become quite the photographer as of late. I think you might just a be boy genius. One thing you actually do not know is the word “can’t.” I’m in no hurry to teach it to you.
Your current favorite color? All of them. Favorite food? Ditto. I am thankful for this because I can feed you healthy foods so you grow big and strong. Favorite beverage? Yellow Gatorade. Favorite outfit? Spongebob pajamas, Elmo hoodie, and our Batman and Robin Halloween costumes. You beg me to “put on Happy Feet” although given the choice you would much rather read books together. You cleverly convince me to read books over and over again at bedtime because you have learned that dada has a soft spot when you ask nicely and say please.
You are a sensitive soul. When other children cry, you give hugs and say “its ok”. Please keep this part of your heart open. Sometime in your life, someone will try and slam it shut. Resist that. You are a kind human being.
Music. Where to start? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything quite like it, but it doesn’t surprise me; Ive been playing guitar for you since you were the size of a peanut inside mommy’s belly. But your love for and intuitive gift for music astounds me. You love my “git-tar” and “uke-welee.” I fret chords while you strum and look at me like I am George Harrison. Thanks for that, by the way. You are my sole admirer. You recognize chord changes and you bend your knees and hop to your own little strum pattern. You are also the best kazoo player I’ve ever seen and I have video to back this up just in case you doubt me.
You make friends easily. When I take you to play at Castle Park or anywhere else for that matter, you always make new friends and are inquisitive about other children. You get along famously with Damian, my best friend Rich’s son. Its extremely entertaining to watch the two of you shoot hoops and actually work together as a team.
You are the apple of your grandparents’ eyes. You and Grandma Meryl always have lots of fun and share a bond that makes me get teary eyed when I think of my grandma Jenny. You and grandpa Jeff have fun too, at the park and on your bike; you love to watch his fish swim in the tank when we go to visit him. Either one of them would do anything for you.
I know you won’t be able to read this for some time but when you can it will be more meaningful than any hallmark card, and its sentiment will endure longer than any of the toys I buy for you. I look forward to all the adventures that are still to come and I’m hoping that your childhood wont pass by too quickly, although I already know that it will.