4

it really is just such a short time.

9 months of pregnancy. that year of firsts: first touch, first smell, first kiss, first nurse, first smile, first stroller-ride, first outing, first carrots, first scoot, first crawl, first steps.

oh my first child. you turned four years old last week. and i had no idea i would take it this hard.

yesterday i saw a little boy who just learned how to walk. and all at once i remembered the bleary eyed moment when the dr. gupta lifted you up so i can see you for the first time. you were one little miraculous blur without my glasses on. i sobbed with joy, unadulterated happiness, and relief. we survived labour. you were here. really here. the next thing i knew, the weight i had carried and known and protected and loved so well, the very weight of you, was on my chest. i felt you before i  really saw you, this sweet red little anger ball of a boy: my centre, my strength, my hope. my son.

i always knew i'd have a son. i named you when i was 17. your first name appears many times over as doodles and little notes i wrote to myself when you were just my most cherished wish. i still have the notebooks to prove it.

it was a hard year for us, wasn't it, this journey from 3 to 4?

but can i say that for all the battles we have fought and the scars we've traded, i have so loved watching you develop your own interests, sense of humour,  courage, and conviction. we do our best to follow you on the journey of your interests (dead fish be damned). and i am always so proud of you when you fight back - even though what you see is in front of you is your momma the hulk.

you are our first born. and so you bear the brunt of the vast majority of mistakes that your mom and i will bear as parents. for the rest of your life, i'm afraid.  so thank you for your patience. thank you for being the kind of boy that still needs my hugs, even if it was me that caused you distress. i hope you know that it's because i am committed to raising you to be a respectful, considerate, open-minded, and kind person that i'm hard on you. you have such a good heart, it's hard for me not to get upset when you belie it - however young you are now.

you've grown so much this past year. you're longer and leaner, more co-ordinated. your voice is deeper. you know so many things. you tell epic stories that often begin with the word, "remember" - as if i - or whoever you're speaking with - never left your stream of consciousness. and, despite some of your instincts, you really are a good big brother to your sister. 

for your fourth birthday, i made you a rocket ship so your imagination can fly wherever your dreams take you.

and we took you and your sister to your first play. i sobbed like a baby when i saw just how well you and your sister enjoyed seeing live theatre for the first time. pathetic, i know. but you paid no notice. you loved every moment. we've been reading the cat and the hat ever since. 

i know the time is coming that you'll need me less and less. i know that very soon you'll be spending the majority of your day with classmates and friends, that our experiences will come to a great divide and it will be such harder work to look into your eyes and reach you well enough to know that you're really well. i know this. 

until then, i'll read to you and hug you and hold you every night until you fall asleep. for as long as you'll let me. and i'll tell you i love you everyday so you don't forget. 

but grow. grow the way you wish. dream. imagine. live.

i'll be right here.