A Letter to my Son On His Sixth Birthday

To my sweet Boo,

Today you turn 6 years old. Where has the time gone?

It seems like just yesterday that you arrived, Daddy’s little mini-me. Strong-willed right from the start, you weren’t going anywhere for Dr. Andy – you just wedged yourself right in, and weren’t coming out. Thankfully, that same strong-willed little four-year-old has softened around the edges to a gentler, still sweet six year old.

You still are your Daddy’s boy; there is no place you’d rather be than doing anything with him. I do believe the feeling is mutual! (That’s ok, Mommy understands…)

 

You were an early talker with an inquisitive mind. You know EVERYTHING there is to know about construction trucks, tractors and trains (and have no hesitation to correct me if I point something out wrong.) Nothing makes you happier than sitting on a (insert name of construction vehicle/truck/bus/train here)!

 

You are perceptive and it gets us into trouble (mom and dad) more often than not, as you ask questions about things we just can’t explain – and not just things that involve basic physics and such, but also deeper topics. In the 7 months that we have been here, you have lost your American accent, gained an English one and have totally reworked your vocabulary to fit how they speak here. (and I do crack up every time you say “hel-ee-cop-tah”.)

 


You are creative, colorful, and imaginative. You not only have one imaginary brother (the multi-talented Kevin, who, when not playing in your band or driving the tour bus, is flying fighter jets here in the UK and driving a delivery truck), but have manned your entire band with imaginary brothers (Marco, Stansty, and…um – the other Italian guy – oh, yeah – Bruno.) You told us that we will need to expand the driveway so there will be room to park your tour bus when you aren’t on the road, as you are always going to live with us. You are funny, and love silliness.

You write your own songs, and sing them endlessly. You know all the words to U2 and Bruce Springsteen, but also appreciate Sugarland, Lady Antebellum, Louis Armstrong, and Toots Maytal.

You are THE most social person I know – and you are only 6. You make friends at the drop of a hat, and they love you as much as you love them. You talk about your old friends but forge ahead with new friendships.


You are also sensitive. Like me, you fret over making the wrong decision, and get upset when you can’t decide. You cry when your friends tease you or call you names – or when your tiny sister taunts you. (I did warn you it was going to happen, eventually…)

You were my firstborn – the one whose naps I guarded and protected obsessively (earning me the moniker of “Sleep Nazi”). The one who Mommy fretted and fussed and rocked all night long, sleeping in your rocking chair, when you couldn’t sleep because you startled yourself awake. Too big to take home in newborn clothes, you are still my “tall boy” – although, now, you are all legs. We tease you that you look like a grasshopper when you climb out of the tub!

 

And – despite the fact that in a few short years you WILL be taller than me, you won’t pass up the chance for a snuggle at bedtime and still laugh when we pretend to get stuck together after a good squeezy hug.

I don’t know where your life will take you, but I know that you have the will, creativity and passion to do exactly what you want to do.

 


You are funny, silly, charming, creative, stubborn – and all mine.
Oh, how I love you, little man.

Happy birthday, Boo.

Comments

  1. I remember that hair do like it was yesterday!

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