Sunday, April 14, 2013

To Caleb, On Your Third Birthday

Dear Caleb,
Three years ago today, your daddy and I laughed as you slipped quickly into this world.  You made quite the entrance, little man, not leaving any time for the doctor to do what she needed to do to help bring you into this world.  You were going to do things your own way, happily oblivious to society's "norms", yet so charming that nobody really cared.

You gave us quite a scare, little one, when you so recklessly arrived.  Your lungs didn't have the opportunity to be squeezed the way they should have been, so your body was purple/gray and you had to be on oxygen for a bit.

But ever the optimist, you powered through, and within a couple of hours you were pink and smiling.

Caleb, you were born smiling, with Daddy and I laughing.  And that's the way it continues to this day.  Your sweet smile and silly antics have your Daddy and me smiling and laughing all the time.  I love that you march to your own crazy drum, so happy and so carefree.  Life is a party to you, Caleb Blake, and my wish for you is that the party continues.

I love your matter-of-fact optimism, little Bug.  You believe, in your core, that everything will always go the way you intend for it to go.  There's no Pollyanna attitude with you; yes the sun is always shining, but it's only because the sun has no other option BUT to shine.  Yes, Mommy will give you a juice box even though she always gives milk at lunch, because Mommy has no other option BUT to give you a juice box.  And if, perchance, Mommy happens to tell you that you can't have one, you'll turn on that dimpled grin and whisper "juice box", because you know that the quieter you are the more people will listen.  And 99% of the time, you'll get your way with that charm.  I love and loathe that about you, Caleb!

I fear that your wit and your charm will be your downfall, Caleb.  I fear that you will be able to get yourself out of a lot of situations, and you will never really learn a good lesson from having to suffer any consequences.  Of course, I am your mother, and my prayer is that your road is as smooth as possible, but I also pray that you will learn to handle the tough times with dignity and grace.

Little one, I worry every day about the way that Daddy and I are raising you and Ben (Bay-un, as you call him) in a way that is pleasing to God.  I pray that you will grow up to love Him, that you will be a Godly man one day.  Your carefree spirit and gentle heart have the potential to lead you in many different directions; my hope is that the path you follow is the one that brings you the most peace in life and that reflects God's desire for you.

Thank you, little Pizza, for bringing a sense of humor into our family.  Thank you for your imagination and giggles.  Thank you for running around with no pants, singing the Oompa Loompa song, dressed as "Darth Vader" (but the good guy Darth, not the bad guy), while your Storm Troopers (Daddy and Ben) follow you around.  Thank you for declaring your name is Pizza, and that your age is four-nine-eight, and for insisting on wearing rain boots to church.  Thank you for being such a love bug.  I love you, Caleb Blake!

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