Friday, May 27, 2016


Dear Spike,

Now you are nine.

People always say of children, "they grow up so fast," but I've never felt that way. Sure, I can remember many parts of the day you were born like it was yesterday, but it wasn't yesterday. It was nine amazing years ago and it feels to me like nine years should.

You're growing more independent. Walking by yourself to friends' homes to play. Getting ready on your own for soccer practice. Snowboarding solo on our great big mountain. Taking accountability for starting your own homework. Drawing your own baths. Deciding for yourself when to turn in for the night.

I suppose I should feel like I'm losing you. I don't at all. Much to the contrary — I feel like I'm gaining more of you. Every decision you make on your own is a part of you revealing yourself to the world. In this way, I'm getting to know who you really are.

And I like the person I'm meeting.

You are exceptionally kind. Generous. Polite. Thoughtful of others.

You are smart. Witty. Sarcastic. Funny.

You are athletic. Strong. Sometimes timid. A little bit shy.

You are both adventurous and cautious. You are both silly and serious. You are both easily distracted and very focused. You are both me and your mother.

But you are, more and more every day, you.

And I love you. I couldn't love you more. Not today, at least.

Tomorrow, though, is a different story. Somehow I'll love you even more then.

Happy birthday.