Dear Andrew,
Happy birthday, buddy! I'm finding it difficult to believe that you are celebrating your second birthday today. As the baby of our family, it's hard to think of you as a toddler or even our little boy. But as the calendar clearly shows, you are in fact two years old.
I know I don't give you a fair shake at your age, mostly because I give too much thought to what it was like to parent Morgan at the same age. But over the last year, I've realized in so many ways that you are nothing like, nor will you ever be, your sister. Thinking about the similarities and differences only hinders my enjoyment of who you are and who God created you to be.
You, Andrew Scott, are a special person all your own! Your deep brown eyes add so much to your already bright expressions. The way your giant smile changes the shape of your face makes it impossible not to grin right along with you. Likewise, your times of sadness are just as intense as you sit firmly planted on the floor, right or wrong, to shout out your frustrations until I acknowledge your misery. I can't quite decide in those moments if you're strong-willed or just a mama's boy who isn't getting his way.
Much of your frustration stems from your inability to communicate with us. Last spring we visited our county's speech therapy program to discover that your capacity to form words was lacking. In just the past month, though, you've shown amazing progress, using over 20 words to express your thoughts, and most recently, combining your sweet, soft-spoken "Hiya" and "Dada" to greet Daddy after work. I've been wondering for so long what your speaking voice would sound like, and I am elated to hear you mutter words here and there. True to your personality, you will do this on your terms in your own time.
It's evident now more than ever who you really are, what you enjoy, what makes you tick. Cars and trucks are your passion, and your first order of business every morning is hauling out your collection onto the living room floor. Thursday mornings in our neighborhood are thrilling, too, as you hear the garbage, compost and recycle trucks rumbling their way to our street. And from your seat in the van, you'll shout "Momma!" when you spot a motorcycle, semi or other unusual vehicle in the distance, followed by a "Bah Jah!" (big truck!). As I glance in the rearview mirror, I can see your eyes and mouth wide open with excitement.
You have given me a true perspective on toddlerhood this year. At just 14 months old on our weekly shopping trip, you pulled jar of sauerkraut from the shelf at the grocery store. I felt so defeated in that moment. Not upset or mad or surprised. Just disappointed with myself that I didn't anticipate this happening. Why didn't it occur to me that you were capable of doing that? That your curious hands would eventually latch onto a glass jar and pull it to the ground? My go get 'em grocery attitude was instantly squashed as the horrid smell filled the aisle.
I've also learned that I need to start thinking like a little boy if I'm going to survive as your mom. Case in point? Last Spring, we hauled out the plastic picnic table. Thinking you'd know just what to do, Daddy and I set it down and then turned to finish bringing out more summer gear from the shed. I glanced back to find that instead of sitting, you had conquered the picnic table, standing tall on it's top with a grin of accomplishment, me running towards you full of surprise that you'd even think to climb it. Silly me. I realize now that I should have known better.
I've improved since then at anticipating your moves and grown more tolerable of your actions and reactions. And while you do have moments of rowdiness and unpredictability, I still adore your soft side, Andrew. Often it's me who puts the finishing touches on your bedtime routine. And those few minutes together are very special to me as we cuddle into the rocker and recount the day's events. With our eyes locked and your thumb in place, I sing the same songs and recite the same prayer that we've shared since the very beginning. This is one of the only times during the day that you are content in the stillness, and I soak it all in before giving you a final kiss and putting you in the crib.
Our relationship is special, but so is the one you have with Daddy. He's the one who can squash an afternoon tantrum with a simple phone call, who can make you beam when he pulls in the driveway, who can embrace your energy with running and wresting. The love and affection that he consistently shows you will impact you someday, more than you realize. His example of fatherhood in our daily family life assures me that decades from now, you, too, will fall into that role effortlessly.
In the meantime, you continue to work intentionally on your relationship with Morgan. Lately it appears that instead of trying to emulate her, you'd rather just annoy her. You had me fooled for quite a while, thinking you were the victim. But I've witnessed you swiping a toy from Morgan's turf and then pausing, waiting for the big reaction, ready to spew "MINE!" while she wails and puts on the show you've hoped for. Aside from "Momma", that possessive word is one of the most used in your vocabulary.
Thankfully there are still tender moments between the two of you. Even though you refuse to hold Morgan's hand, I do catch you both shoulder to shoulder on the couch. And sharing the giggles still happens quite often, too. As a parent, it's very rewarding to watch your children enjoy each other's company, and I imagine that won't change for Daddy and I as you age.
I still cannot wrap my head around you growing up. On your birthday especially, when I remember the events of two years ago, it's much easier for me to relive the joy than think about the changes that will come and the independence that you will gain. Imagining you as an older, wiser Andrew is difficult for me. But we have a loving God that we trust in all things. He has an amazing plan and purpose for your life. One that I cannot even begin to predict. And so I simply remind myself how precious you are in His sight. And in ours.
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
Psalm 139: 13-14
Happy birthday, Andrew.
All my love,
Momma
