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Six Years and One Birthday Letter

Six Years and One Birthday Letter

Six Years and One Birthday Letter

Hey there, Dylan.

Today marks six years since you graced us with your adorable little alien head and sweet, sweet tender spirit.

This is the first time I’ve ever written a letter to you either privately or publicly so I sure hope you think it was worth it that I waited so long. I’m not sure what kept me from doing it for all the years that have passed, but I didn’t.

Maybe it’s because I chose to tell you everything I wanted you to know as the moments came and went. Perhaps I convinced myself that you’ll carry them with you without knowing it, harboring your mom’s imparted wisdom and weirdness and knowing you’ve done so only when I bring up ‘that one time’ as you’re placing the corsage on your prom date’s wrist.

Or maybe you won’t at all. No matter how hard I try to trigger the time you covered the entire kitchen in flour when you were three. You just won’t.

I’d like to tell you now, and for always, that you have made me something I never fathomed I could ever become before I held you on my chest at 4:44am that quiet morning on the eighth day of February.

I became your mother and that has proven itself to be pretty damn cool.

But it’s not me that makes me cool. Not a chance in hell. It’s you who makes me street cool and calm cool, sad cool and happy cool.

I never cared about being cool though. And you, with your sweet, quiet spirit and quirky little one-liners, could care less about being the cool guy. Lucky for everyone else, that means you’re the most lovable one in any group. You make friends with everyone and are so thoughtfully concerned about protecting them. Even in the face of nastiness, you’re not afraid to be vulnerable. I hope you keep that beautiful trait with you for forever.

A vulnerable man is stronger and sexier than the toughest macho dude any day.

That’s not me calling you sexy either. I’ll save that for when your crush comes over to pick you up for the high school fundraiser night at Jersey Mike’s and you’re only half ready to go (you are your mother’s child after all) and we catch a peek at your underpants. Only then will I call you sexy and you’ll know, after the dramatic eye roll I’m sure, that I’m just being ridiculous because that’s all you’ve grown to expect from me in your years as my son.

I love you incredibly and am the most honored person, next to your dad of course, to have the privilege of helping, and more recently merely watching, you grow up.

Happy Birthday, Dilly-Doodle.

Let’s go build some LEGOs.

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