L.A.,
I can’t count the number of times your thoughts and expressions have caught me off guard in these last few weeks. When you were first born I held you in my arms and marveled at how incredibly perfect you were. I watched cautiously as you took your first steps, and I silently cheered you on as you learned to speak in sentences – often times repeating the same word over and over as your brain worked at warp speed to catch up with your mouth. These days though, you’ve got most things working together.
You run laps around your Dad and I, and love when we chase you around outside – dissolving in a fit of contagious laughter when you’re caught. When you want to play monsters and I feign being afraid you completely stop the game to come put your hand on my shoulder and look deep into my eyes with concern saying “It’s otay Mommy, they nice monsters.” You’ve developed such an amazing sense of compassion. Though it’s painful, I actually love when your little feet pitter patter into our room at quarter to 5 in the morning and you say in your tiny voice “Hi Mommy! I just waked up” as you climb up into our big bed, kiss my forehead and sling your arm over me before you fall back asleep.

I’m not going to lie, there are mornings I wish our door had a lock. Your new obsession with super heroes, while cute, is a little unnerving when you decide you should try to jump and fly on our bed (at 5am). Yesterday your brother was napping and I ran to the post office only to come back and find you and your Daddy running around and climbing all over our back yard. When I pulled in the driveway you stopped for a second to look over at me and shouted “Look Mommy! We’re SUPER DUPER!!” with a squeal of delight.

You’re not afraid of anything, you’re headstrong and stubborn, you hate to be told that you can’t do something, and you always want to run with the big kids. Despite all of that, you have one of the sweetest little hearts I know. You continue to amaze us every single day. I just hope many years from now that you always remember that you’re Super Duper, little guy. I don’t want anyone or anything to take that away from you.
All my love,
Mommy
PS – Do me just one favor though? Let’s stop trying to jump down the stairs/off the rock wall/into the pool when your parent’s heads are turned for a second? I admire your sense of adventure, but I really don’t want to end up in the hospital. Okay? I love you.