My Dearest Leitho

You are now two years old and I think it is high time I started writing letters to you. This will be my very first one. Please forgive me if I babble on incoherently or if I reveal anything truly embarrassing, I am still new to this whole thing (writing about motherhood, the act of motherhood, you name it).

You are asleep right now, in your very own bed in your very own room upstairs. You had an active day (helping your father dig holes in the backyard, helping me make dinner, playing with the hose in the back yard and drawing some rather interesting renditions of all of your beloved family members and friends with your crayons) and I was not surprised to see you drift off to sleep on the way home in the car.

You are an excellent sleeper. Sometimes I watch you sleep. I come into your room at night to check on you and your face mesmerizes me. You are completely at peace when you sleep and so utterly beautiful it makes my heart hurt. I run my hand over your forehead and your nose wrinkles up for about two seconds and then your face lapses into its delicate baby curves once again.

Those curves are disappearing now that you are two (terrible two!) and you are turning into a little boy. This morning I looked at you and was sad for a brief moment. Sad that you are no longer that mewling little bundle that was totally dependent upon me for every need. Sad that you are growing so quickly it is difficult to keep up with the changes. At the same time I was overjoyed to note that you are learning things faster than you did even just a few months ago. I was pleased that you are becoming independent ("no" is one of your favourite words), even though it means daily small accidents (you fell and split your lip open the other day and scared your poor father half-to-death).

To put it bluntly, you amaze me. You amaze me daily with your pure joy and your compassion. You thrill me with your love and devotion. You impress me with the new skills you are learning and the old ones you are retaining. You are, in short, the centre of my world.

At least once a week someone asks me if I want to have more kids; I suppose I am at the point and age where a second child would be welcomed. If I could have more I would have to consider it very seriously, because I know you would be the most amazing older brother in the world. But since that is a blessing I am unable to accept I am happy to say that you are more than enough child for me. While you make me want to have a dozen children just like you, you also give me reason to never have another because no one could ever measure up to you. You’ve spoiled me for other kids little man…and, I think, spoiled a few of your aunties in this regard as well.

I will stop rambling on now…and end this (my first!) letter to you.

Happy Birthday my little munchkin man…I love you very much.