Love

This is one of those long posts. Skip it if you want to but if you have some time, indulge me. My boys turn 7 years old today. I wrote a letter for my daughter on her birthday in April. Just because they are twins doesn't mean they should share a letter and just because they are twins doesn't mean one should not have his letter on his birthday. So, two letters for two lovely boys on their shared day of birth.

***

Dear son,

This past Sunday you woke up having hatched a plan. The previous night your brother pitched a fit wanting the wallet back that you had traded with him. You planned to give it back to him if he gave you the $5 he still had leftover from the lemonade stand. While I didn't like the plan, I stayed quiet. He thought he got the great deal. But you knew who really did.

And what did you do with your new found wealth? You desperately wanted to buy your younger sister a toy kitty cat from the local children's book store. You begged to be taken on Sunday and wouldn't accept it was closed. You remembered it would be opened when I picked you up from theater camp and brought your sister into the store, holding her hand as you let her pick out a little Siamese cat.

You are even keeled and centered. Your birthday party at the ball parked was rained out and you didn't complain. Life is a song for you and currently the music is from Fiddler on the Roof. While watching any sort of singing on television or stage, you are lost in the music. You sway, bob your head and just become the melody.

You are devoted. Also at the rained out ballgame your brother tripped and skinned his elbow badly. It isn't healing properly but he won't let me or your father put disinfectant on it. We are having to hold him tightly while he screams and yells. You are right in there, defending him. First you try to reason with us that we are hurting your brother and need to stop. Since that won't work you get in and tear our arms off to free him from our disinfecting clutches. We then place you in the hallway and lock the bathroom door. So while your brother is screaming in the bathroom you are both yelling encouragement to him and condemnation at us.

You love us with all of your heart. We are all very lucky. And I am lucky to be your mom.

I love you,

Mama

***

Dear son,

For your birthday you received "Bunny Bucks" from our favorite independent children's bookstore. The entire drive (all one mile of it) you talked about buying your 3-year-old sister something. When you got in you panicked because it meant losing out on not getting everything you could get with such a huge gift certificate (all $15 of it). But after a while you settled into a few things and found you did have $2 left over. You bought her a lovely change purse with butterflies. You asked the owner to wrap it up nicely for her. You cried when you realized we weren't going straight home so you could present it to her, even though we were going to another friend's birthday party.

When you did get home you promptly and loudly woke her up from her nap. She didn't really understand your generosity. In fact the little purse is still sitting on the floor where she left it after tearing off the paper. But you don't seem to mind at all.

You are our little man with his heart on his sleeve. You hug the hardest and snuggle the tightest. Most mornings I wake up with you practically on top of me because you sneak into my bed in the middle of the night. You cannot contain your disappointment when things go wrong. The other night you were so upset about something that you were throwing objects and trying to hit your brother, even though he had nothing to do with whatever was bothering you. But then you settled down and helped your sister take her bath.

I am amazed with how comfortable you have become with people both old and young. Sunday evening we went to a church picnic and you answered all questions asked with a "yes" (with an actual "s" at the end of "yes") or "no" followed by a proper "sir" or "ma'am". You weren't bashful and spoke loudly enough so people could hear you. You actually can carry on a conversation, offering up stories about your day or week and asking questions about the person you are speaking with. You are truly pleasant to be around.

Tonight we were at your new school playground meeting other kids in your first grade class. Your sister's favorite pants are too small for her and she had a plumber's thing going on. Other boys were noticing and pointing. You very calmly went over and tried to pull up her pants. You helped her with the monkey bars and those boys didn't go near her again.

I look forward to seeing you become the man you will be. It is an honor to be your mom.

I love you,

Mama