You run head-first and headstrong into every day, punctuating each one with full volume screams whenever the spirit moves you. And it is usually when dad or I have just started a phone call. Thanks for that. Or when we go out for dinner. You play hard. You fall hard. You make all my days happy ones. And I will never be able to thank you enough for that, my dear son.
I love your words, the way you talk and how you ask questions. You have a way of saying, “You coming, too, mommy?” that makes it pretty darn hard not to take your hand and follow you. I’d rather spend my hours with you over dishes or laundry. Those will always be there for me to toil over…but you will only be two and a half right now. And I don’t want to miss it.
When you have tried my last nerve or head-butted me once too many times, I yell at you. And then you know you’ve gone too far. You immediately say, “Sorry, mommy. Get knuckles and high-fives and kiss and hug?” After the sorry ritual you say, “Mommy all better, Hunter all better.” Of course, my sweet boy, it is all better… you have a way of making it so.
I love you, son.