"Fanx". A lot.

Somebody else had a birthday. (Um, it may have even been in the fall. That's what happens sometimes. Sorry buddy. I wrote about you then, but didn't get to publish it.)

On the day before you turned 5, amidst a great deal of giggles and birthday pancakes, I recounted in my head the day you were born and how I worked with such intensity to get you with your sideways turned head here. The way that you greeted the world with such calmness and keen observation, not even crying.

These days you are not always calm. Things change pretty rapidly for you. But you do take in everything.

All year your art has really developed. Your pictures, like your life,  are filled with great details and voyages and heroes and quests. Your horse teacher is right that someday you may write a very complex book.

Bastilla: The girl elf

Your gratitude for the world around you is always near the surface and just hearing your simple "fanx" always makes me more energized and generous. Also you very astutely have discovered that, "magic isn't real; except when it's in yours heart." So, in you my darling, never forget that it is actually overflowing.

 

Music also is slowly opening itself up to you. You surprised us all when suddenly you love to do your own funky dances, especially to Latin rhythms, and, unlike so many other times, do not even care if anyone is watching you.

Your humor has developed and as you remind us, can be a great coping mechanism for all of us. Sometimes we meow together when you are upset (I have no idea why this works, but it does), or your toothbrush has to talk, or you and I play a complex game where I am you as a grownup and you are me as a little girl. I get to give you permission to be a lot less serious. And through it all, you remain a small man of great mystery.

Before you turned five you had the firsts of learning to ride a horse, singing in front of an audience, the two of us starting Tae Kwon Do together-- that thing you have "waited for your whole life." You also make some pretty mean pancakes.

Lake Ft. Smith

And some pretty silly faces. You are trying to be a good brother, going along with crazy exploits, enduring being dressed, positioned, and frequently bossed. However, you are also starting to take on new roles as director and crafter of stories. And you stand up for yourself. Fiercely. With your toddler sister you are more willing to indulge, occasionally adore, and even collaborate with her.

You are exacting and careful. Few adults notice or care about all of the details that you do. And you also have the artistic gift of thinking non-linearly and in multiple directions, dimensions, and story lines. Your giggles are amazing and I am so thankful for the quiet mornings when we are up before anyone else in the house. And that you still have a Dragon, who grows and that you make nests for. Dragons, are after all, sometimes very delicate. You help me to learn about patience and living with intensity and completeness. How I love you and your daisies that fill my days.

-XOXO Mama

Dear little mouse,

Calyn. Photo by Emily McVay

(Very recently you turned two. Now, could you please P-L-E-A-S-E start sleeping predictably, and needing my a little less- just a little- so that I can write about you more)?

How completely lovely you are. All of my children have brilliantly changed my life, of course, but there has been something completely different about us from the beginning. Having a girl created a deep seeded need to make the world a better place and to become even more involved in women's issues. You sleep with your hand on my face, you work dutifully at everything you do, you see the world through a lens of compassion and humanity.

You are on the cusp of not being a baby anymore. How can that be? (You are going to hear me asking that question A LOT in the years to come as one year morphs and melts into the next). For now I am savoring your words and your unwords. I'm loving the cute-sey way you end everything in e or -sey. Shoe-sey, hat-sey, hop-ey, sit-ey, jump-ey. Gram-ey. Share-sey. That's gonna be a tough one. And a shrill one. The morning greeting of "hi" in your chipper tweet melts me everytime. The curls that halo your head. I love your grasp of language and how you think dragon flies should growl and meerkats should meow. I love how you "play" French horn and how you seek out daddy. I love how you imitate snores and shoosh others when your brothers are sleeping.

But there are some of your traits that I sure hope you keep as you grow.

Discretion
Baby, I was thrilled when you didn't want to sit on that Santa Clause's lap. I like that you don't clamor over everyone the first time that you meet them. You give a face time to sink in and allow a character to develop. You gage people uncannily well. And you don't allow people to hold your hand just because it's cute.

An assertive voice
Things are all pleasant and jolly until someone has overlooked your opinion. You may have to exercise restraint, at times, over your strong manners, but keep on giving the world your opinions, and use your mean face if necessary. Stand up for yourself, stand up for injustices. And don't back down from mean turkeys.

Dancing queen
You feel the music in everything, even suitcases thumping at the airport. Never stop seeking. Never stop dancing. But dance because it makes your heart glad. Dance when nobody's watching. Dance to save your soul. Dance to make your plants grow. Dance to be alive.

Pretty
Already you love to adorn yourself. But always give reverence to the body you are dressing up. Remember that those thighs that may be squishy are still so sweet because they help you to stretch up your toes. And remember a belly pooch can be adorable even if it grows into a fluctuating beast- some day it may even help you to carry a new life. Remember that no matter your size you will always be worthy of being loved. 

Thank you so much for being brilliantly you!

23: Dash

23

Dash

    1. (noun) A symbol used in writing to connect elements.

    2. (verb) To finish or move off hastily.