To
my wonderful, goofy, clever, yet infuriating son, Ayden,
Happy
12th Birthday!
Where
has the time gone? It seems like just yesterday when we were driving home from
the hospital, in what felt like the longest ride ever because your daddy was so
nervous with precious cargo in the back.
Now, we’re nearly looking at each other eye-to-eye. We don’t always see eye-to-eye, but that’s just fine. You are no longer anyone’s mini-me, you are decidedly your own person: smart, funny, sarcastic, and often ridiculous. You are kind and sensitive, almost to a fault as you wear your heart on your sleeve.
Now, we’re nearly looking at each other eye-to-eye. We don’t always see eye-to-eye, but that’s just fine. You are no longer anyone’s mini-me, you are decidedly your own person: smart, funny, sarcastic, and often ridiculous. You are kind and sensitive, almost to a fault as you wear your heart on your sleeve.
You
are driven and focused, and have a strong will to achieve that even you can’t
really fight against. I love that about you, too. When I ask “is that your best
effort” on a paper, I know I’ll get an honest answer if it’s not. (Thank you,
Mrs. McKinney, for helping instill this at a very young age). You are loyal and dedicated, and easily
frustrated when others aren’t giving their 100%. It’s a hard row to hoe, but learning
to push on when others don’t AND to not shoulder all the blame when things fall
apart because of their failings will serve you well.
Moving
you in the middle of fourth grade was a big deal, I know, and the transition
wasn’t an easy one. Two years later, I see a very different kid: one who is
finding his own place, his own crowd (and, I think, the right one for you), and
rebuilding his confidence. I couldn’t be prouder of how you’ve handled the
change and tackled the problems it created.
Some
days, you seem wise beyond your years and so much more mature than a
twelve-year-old should be.
The next minute, you struggle to open a Gatorade bottle or share a totally
sixth grade level joke (that is funny only to you) and, once again, all is
right with the world.
Just
yesterday, you were my toddler, afraid to walk on the grass.
Today, I’m scrubbing grass stains out of your pants, because of all the time
spent practicing jumping hills on your bike in the yard…..which you just
learned to ride yesterday, right?
Today, you talk sports, like it’s your business. How you know every player in every league, I’ll likely never know and if you could put that attention to detail into remembering to put away your clothes in a manner that still resembles folded, I’d be a happy mommy.
I
remember how my heart broke when you stopped giving hugs, and how you took my
breath away when you starting giving them again. It’s hard to let go, to let
you walk your own path and make your own mistakes because in so many ways, you’re
still my baby. And I know, my first-born, that you’re not always ready to walk
some walks on your own (by the way we shove you out the door), but know that we
do it with love.
I
can see the amazing person you are becoming, and I’m more than a little awed by
it.
I
love you more than words can say. I’d say even more than that, if I knew it
didn’t embarrass you to death.
Happy
birthday, big guy. I think twelve is going to be an amazing year for you!
Love,
Mommy
