Giving Thanks (inspired by)

Thanks be to God, Father, Son and Spirit, for the abundance of good things he pours on His children.
We are but few, but His blessings are many.

Friday, September 6, 2013

To Peter, on your third birthday

Dear Peter,
It’s your third birthday, or thereabouts. It’s your birthday week, and it has been quite a week indeed.  You did not get one special day this year, but you were given special moments scattered here and there through this wild week.

Daddy has a big test this week, plus a million things at church, so we decided to celebrate you 2 days before your birthday.  With Sunday dinner, we had cake; Thomas the Tank engine cake, per your request. But, you had been sick with croup since Thursday (Friday was awful!), and your appetite had not yet returned. So, you smiled about your cake, but you did not eat it. And you were too tired to open your presents that afternoon.

Monday, we had the rest of the cake for breakfast, and you did eat that, but you still needed all kinds of snuggles (this is not typical for you!)  Then Aggie got sick, and Marcus. We watched lots of TV.  Tuesday your best friend Deandra came over (with Enola and Reese), but we had to evacuate the house-- the septic system failed, and there were leaks and fumes and all kinds of awfulness. But to you, it was a grand adventure. We spent the morning playing with new toys at Aunt Mary Anne’s house.  And while daddy and the other men dug and fixed and worked through the night, we had a weekday sleepover there, too.

Wednesday and Thursday were all about trash runs and bleach. But for you, playing, first at Mary Anne’s then at home. Thursday night I remembered you still had birthday presents to open!  New Thomas underoos, a Thomas playset, and a Batman playset- you were in heaven, and your brothers were drooling with envy!

And now, finally, it is friday.

Friday has become a highlight of the week for me. Eldon goes to preschool, and I do not babysit, so you and I almost always go to town.  A slow-paced day with just my Peter was exactly what I wanted, and it was a very nice morning.

“Mama, I gonna wipe my boogers on you!” you said with your sparkling eyes and dimple cheeks. You are the most hilarious little boy ever, and you know it, too.  My kisses to you were strategically placed today, so as to avoid the booger fountain on your face.

As I write this you are playing with my ipod.  Your tongue is out, pointing to the right, to help you concentrate.  You are a big, very big boy. You’re wearing underoos now to prove it. Sometimes, just to mess with you, I say, “Hi there, little butt!” and you say, “No mama, I big butt!”

It’s your third birthday, or thereabouts, and today I set my mind to say “yes” to you as often as possible. When we got in daddy's pickup truck, you told me you wanted the music to be "crazy loud." So, it was. At the store, I let you buy Velveeta shells and cheese.  You loved holding the box, until you discovered how much more fun it was to drop the box out of the cart repeatedly.  We saw some “Jake and the Neverland Pirates” shoes on clearance, and you saId, “Mama I want those!” I said, “sure, you can have them!” and you looked pretty surprised- I almost never say yes so easily!  You held them, then discovered that the light up, so you smacked them against your hand, over and over, as we continued our shopping.  Then (oh, happy day!) your indulgent mother let you pick out a candy bar in the checkout line!  We were stuck behind a lady with 57 coupons and 99 price matches, so I was understanding when you “accidentally” opened it. In fact, I even let you eat it right there in line, and I just handed the cashier the wrapper. In an old life, I would have thought that was tacky, but my priorities have changed.  You sure were cute and happy covered in chocolate.

I put your new shoes on for you in the parking lot.  “Me do it!” you insisted when it was time to buckle buckles, and you did.  We shared an orange on the way home in daddy’s “hiccup truck,” and you thought it was fun to wipe the white pieces on my arm.

Just now, you needed my help with a button, but then you insisted that you wanted to wash your hands by yourself, rather, “by my OWN self.”  You are growing up, growing out and away from me, so quickly, my little boy.  You are not mine, and you are not little, I know. But I sure am grateful for these simple days with you.

I love you, big butt.


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