Dear K,


I can hardly believe how much you’ve grown and changed lately.  Spending a week away from you helped it seem even more sudden.  It’s a little bit like your childhood is a handful of sand, and the harder I want to hang on, the more it slips all too quickly from my hands.  You’re not a baby.  You’re a boy.  A sweet, smart, wonderful boy.


There are so many things I love about you.


I love the way you hug.  Head down, patting me on the back, and of course accompanied by a soft “aww”.

I love the way you say Amen before I can at the end of our nightly prayers.

I love the way you pretend not to hear me when I’m telling you not to do something, but when I start walking toward you…you stop that “forbidden” activity immediately and try to run off.

I love that you already have a sense of humor.

I love the way you laugh loudly at yourself.

I love that you think all music is worth dancing to.

I love the way you mispronounce dinosaur.

I love that you love being read to.

I love when you point out your own eyes and have to squint because you point too hard.

I love that when no one is asking, you’ll still point out your belly randomly.

I love how everything red makes you say “Elmo!”.

I love your fishy face.

I love that you spot every duck no matter the situation.

I love that you spot monkeys that do not exist just so you can make the sound.

I love that you keep me in your line of sight at all times.

I love that you want to help, even if that means the occasional cell phone ends up in a dishwasher.

I love that at the age of 18 months…I can already see a little man forming.

I love that God has given us the privilege of being your parents.


I love you.