Hey Kiddo,
It’s hard to believe you’re turning three this month, albeit with decidedly less fanfare than your older brother’s over the top third birthday spectacle, absurdly dubbed ‘R’s Robot Romp.’ But that’s been the story of your life, hasn’t it? While every detail of your brother’s birth and existence has been enveloped in the greatest care and detail, yours has been a bit of a blur.
The hard truth is that your short three years on this earth have been met with considerably less attention and a whole lot more tired.
You don’t know it of course, my sweet boy with your enormous smiling dimples. It doesn’t bother you that most everything you have to call your own once belonged to the bigger kid in the next room. And you don’t seem to notice the worn knees in your pants or the train set missing a few tracks. The books you love were torn long ago by another’s hand and your crayons already chewed. You don’t really mind that your baby pictures are still in the envelope waiting to be framed while your brother’s face is visible at every angle in varied stupid cute photos taken with considerable time, effort, and costuming.
There just hasn’t been the time to take you to ‘baby yoga’ or long walks through the park. No, your life has been one long series of being told to ‘Hurry up please!’ We can’t be late to brother’s (insert swimming lessons, tee-ball, preschool, rocketry propulsion workshop, whatever).’ But no matter where we are headed, you’re perfectly happy to be along for the ride so long as you are properly snacked with a Hotwheel in hand.
Rolling with the punches is one of the things you do best.
You darling kid who always dreams of donuts and loves to dance. You who must to wait for all of the things — for changing, for story time, for the briefest spotlight, and for me to slow down for the tiniest minute to ‘hold you please mommy.’ When folks joke that you’re sometimes loud and whiny, it’s OK — I know why. All your little life you have had to be loudest in the room to be heard.
I’m sorry buddy — I’m listening.
And I’ve got news for you kid; your time is coming. Each day I see the boy you are becoming in deeper shape and color. I love watching you come into your own with your fierce independence and fearless abandon. You, who are my boundary pusher, my rule bender, my risk taker, and proof my heart could grow even larger. Guess what little one? Your big brother is off to answer the call of Kindergarten in just a few short months. Then, the world will be ours! And oh the places we will go, the adventures we’ll have!
And hey, trust me when I tell you there are some pretty sweet perks to being version 2.0!
Mercifully, you have avoided much of the new parent torture that your brother endured. It was a long and painfully rigid two years of zero processed sugar and screen time for him. Be thankful that no one ever coaxed you to choke down a zucchini muffin or blended kale. You got to go right to the hard stuff. It’s been raining cheddar bunnies and moonpies for you kid. That big smile of yours and sweet little ‘pwweeeaase’ melts me down to a helpless mom puddle more often than not, gifting you with whatever your snotty nose desires.
Son, please hear me when I tell you I love you with my whole heart, even in those moments I only have half of myself to give. Years from now you won’t care that your clothes or toys weren’t new. You won’t miss those things we never had time to do. But I do hope you will remember that you were loved, and not just by your dad and me. That bigger kid who sleeps down the hall is in your corner for life buddy. He loves you more than anything except Star Wars he said, and I’m going to take a leap and bet that you’ll edge it out one of these days. Brothers are for keeps.
So you keep your chin up little one. And if you’re ever feeling down, I’ll sing you the song for which you were named.
