Letter to My Son, on the Eve of His Birthday

My dearest Wesley Fox,

In just a few short hours, you will officially become a bona fide one year old,  and here I am the night before the big day scrambling to record the memories of your last three months.

How to sum up all the lovely days with you that have passed, all your milestones? You’re up to so much, it’s almost impossible to keep track.

One day in the very near future, I’m going to wake up, turn around and just like that see you walking. Twice now you’ve let go completely and stood on your own little two feet, literally, if only for seconds. And you’re quite the expert now at cruising from one sofa to another, all along the rail of your little gates (which you barely let contain you anymore), and all around the little table your dada set up for you in your room. You love that table, crawling mad circles around it while playing hide-and-seek with either one of us. You love the sound your wooden blocks make when you toss them in the air ferociously and they land on the countertop. Oh boy; one of these days, someone’s bound to take one to the head. You love to throw everything.

Some time in these past three months, we discovered the joy you get from pulling stacks of Lego pieces apart. You hold each stack with your right hand, and pull off with your left, unlike both of your parents. I thought perhaps you’d taken to eating with your left hand because of where I sit while feeding you, but more and more we’re convinced you’re bound to be a lefty, like your abuelo and Tia Cristina. Either way, it wouldn’t matter. But it’s nice to think about all your secrets we’ve yet to discover.

You point at all the things you want now, not just at pictures in your beloved books. Of course, what you want are things like keys or telephones. Things you shouldn’t have in your hands, or in your mouth, of course. You have given up on eating books though. You love books really. Sometimes you’ll head on over to your little library and quietly sit with book in hand. Or you’ll bring me a book to read to you, then sit on my lap, at least for a second or two. Sigh. If only it could be for an hour.

And you’ve become quite the little nature lover. Love to play in grass and with dirt. On our daily walks, you love to reach out and touch the local plants. And you’re a lover of fauna, too, real and otherwise. When you uttered your first word this month the word that came out of your mouth was “duck.” You often see more than one on those walks of ours, as we wave to them hello and goodbye  – and play with the rubber kind in the bathtub at night. Your father sure was right. There was no doubt you were saying “duck” or that you know its Spanish counterpart “pato,” even if you don’t say it. You’re more likely to give a kiss if you’re asked for a “beso.” You possibly ask for “mas” when mealtimes come around — or you may just be making a delicious mmmm sound with all that yummy food in your mouth.

And then the other afternoon you pointed at Niles and said “dog.” Dog, indeed, you little smarty pants.

On a different note, last month, I also saw you bleed for the first time — and it was terrifying for your poor mama. It was hardly eventful in one sense. Just as quick as the bleeding started from your mouth, it stopped. But I was horrified and panicked. What to do, what to do? I’m not prepared for you to get maimed, cut, or otherwise hurt in any way, so stay safe for mama always, okay?

So here we are on the eve of your birthday. You are sleeping in the next room, that little burp rap you’ve made your lovely clutched in one hand. And I sit at the computer remembering the past three months – and further back: the little (by comparison) almost nine pound baby we brought home nearly a year ago who barely moved and didn’t talk. It’s bittersweet, this whole birthday thing, you know? Your daddy and I miss that tiny nugget who allowed himself to be held. Now you’re an explorer wrestling to be free, becoming more of yourself each day. What a trip it’s been.

Happy almost birthday my dear, sweet son, my beautiful baby boy. “Que reine la paz en tu vida, y que cumplas muchos mas.”

All my love, on this day and every day, forever and ever,

your Mama

3 thoughts on “Letter to My Son, on the Eve of His Birthday

  1. Oh goodness I am sniffling over here uncontrollably. The first picture that came through on my feed was the one of him at 9 months. Little G is 8 months 3 weeks and I thought to myself the moment I saw the picture that he looks (body wise) just like that picture.

    The first year of having a child must be the most heartwrenching for those of us who don’t like change. I can’t believe Wes is already a year. I can’t believe all the things he has accomplished. I can’t believe that Little G is only a few months behind this. And I can’t hold on to him as a tiny baby anymore either and I know I should be gloriously happy about it, but it makes me so sad to see him change so fast.

    Phew…sorry to bogart your comments. Happy Birthday, Wes!! What an awesome little boy you are🙂

  2. Happy Birthday, Wes! Before I read this, I was actually feeling nostalgic and just wrote a letter to Neddy! I can’t believe how quickly our boys have grown up – enjoy Wes’ first birthday!!

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