When You Were Three

Dear Benjamin,

Hi. I wanted to write you a letter to tell you about all of the wonderful things you are and do these days. So often we as parents think we will remember all of the sweet and funny little things our children do and say, but the reality is that we don't. I can easily remember the big, hard things, like the jaundice, the colic, and the pneumonia. And I wish that I could so easily remember the small, good things. But over time they fade. So I'm writing this down for you so that you will always know--you were really awesome when you were three.

And it's so much more than just the usual. You have favorite toys, favorite games, favorite shows and movies. You have likes and dislikes. But it's the other things that make you who you are.

You are so intelligent and curious. You are thoughtful and rational and always asking why. But you also have an amazing faith. Your intelligence often astounds me. You remember everything you see and hear. You can read a book or see a movie and remember its tiny details months later. You crave information and understanding. And this part of you--sure, you'll probably be a great student. And I hope that the little OCD in you will not make that too much of a source of frustration for you. But this smart and curious part of you--it's what makes me know that whatever you say or feel, you mean it. You don't speak without fully knowing and being convinced of what you're saying. For better or worse, you speak and act with conviction. Sometimes it's not such a good thing. It makes you obstinate and strong-willed. But you'll make a great leader some day.

I want you to know that when you were three, you were the most interesting combination of temperaments I've ever seen. You have so much joy and excitement. Sure, most of the time you're getting excited about things like Disneyland and the park. But sometimes you get crazy excited about some strange and cool things. Like waffles. And sometimes your excitement melts my soul. Like yesterday. I asked you if you wanted to bring your Bible to church, and you started jumping up and down with this huge grin on your face, begging to bring your Bible so you could "tell everyone about all the stories of God's people." In general, you are just so filled with joy. Your smile could light a stadium, and you give it so freely.

If your passion extends through your joy, it also makes your anger a little more pronounced as well. For the most part you are one of the most well-behaved three-year-olds I've ever known. But you have your moments. And man do they make my skin crawl.

But here is what I love about you: in the heat of the moment, you often are easy to talk to. When you're angry you say "I'm angry." When I ask you why, you tell me. When your feelings are hurt, you say, "You hurt my feelings." And you're honest about why. And in the midst of the anger and the hurt, you deal with it. You might yell and storm around the room, but you talk it out as you do. I hope you keep that ability to express yourself honestly and work through your emotions.

I also love that while you break the rules and take things too far, you feel sad about the bad things that you do. It breaks your heart when you hurt people, physically or emotionally. You are quick to say sorry and try to make things right, and you genuinely feel bad. Your love and compassion win over your impulsiveness and temper, and that sweet and tender heart of yours always shines through. I pray that that will always be true of you.

About that sweet and tender heart--you are such a love. You're a boy, to be sure. You love to play rough, wrestle, and make fake guns with your hands (another one of those things that makes my skin crawl...I will never understand boys). But at the end of the day you are so sensitive and loving, and after playing hard and aggressively, all you want is to cuddle. And if your angry words sometimes break my heart, your sweet words give me life and breath. Every morning you poke your head out of your bedroom door and then run to me with a giant smile and outstretched arms. You tell me I look like a beautiful princess, you comfort Emma when she cries, you convince Daddy to buy us flowers at the store, and you pray for your friends and family. And this sweet heart, dear Benjamin, is what I most fervently pray will always be who you are. That you treat your wife with the same kindness and love that you treat Emma and I. And that you never stop praying for, and hugging, your friends and family.

That's what you were like when you were three. I could go on forever about your creativity, proclivity for costumes and pretending, love of cake pops, and uncanny ability to play independently and lose yourself in your world. But mostly you're just a funny and intelligent and passionate and sweet little Man. You're pretty amazing.

love, Mommy