Luc's 4th Birthday

Dear Luc,

In just a few more days, you turn 4 years old, and today, we celebrate. I accidentally smushed your cake, which is an apt wrap-up of how this year went: perfect, until it’s an absolute, unfixable cluster.

 This past year, you tested and challenged us; you throw down with the best of them with temper tantrums, shrieking spells, talking back, and open defiance. You say, “Mama, you old,” “I lock Daddy outside,” “I don’t love Odin anymore cuz he stinks.” You cry when you have to get up, you cry when you have to go to sleep, and you are terrifically even more annoying and loud when we ask you to tone it down.

This past year, you learned to be a big brother and cope with our divided attention. You help out with the baby, entertaining her and making her laugh. You say, “Isn’t my baby beautiful?” “I picked these flowers for you, Mommy,” and “I want to cuddle and sleep with you tonight, Dadda.” You nestle up to me when I cry, put your small, warm hands on mine, and say, “That happens to me, too; I kiss you and later you feel better.” I was not raised to show emotions in public and am amazed that you have learned such empathy.

You are still car-crazy, still love cheese and fries. And yet you morph from a shy and clingy toddler—content to stand back and observe—to an outgoing, loquacious, and fun-loving preschooler. Sometimes I still see glimpses of my baby boy in your mannerisms and the cute childish phrases that you retain. But often I see a little boy growing up so fast, with an emerging personality that makes you so uniquely you, that we are getting to “meet” for the first time.

Happy 4th, my dear Luc. You were my first teacher at being a mother, and you continue to teach me still: grace under pressure, flexibility to adapt to multiple scenarios, and sheer grit to keep going when you think there’s nothing left in you.