4 years…
It took me 4 years to realize that you’re one of a kind, simply because you’re a mirror of myself & your dada, combined.
It took me 4 years to realize that you’re somewhat timid, yet when it comes to the fun stuff, you’re fearless.
It took me 4 years to see that you’re a very sensitive boy, full of emotion and therefore sometimes incapable of controlling it.
It took me 4 years to realize that you have great empathy, just when I broke down and cry when you’re in so much pain having contracted HFMD, you stop crying and put your hands around my face and tell me it’s going to be okay.
It took me 4 years to know that you’re very creative, full of imagination and enthusiasm, maybe you didn’t know but your eyes sparkle when you talk about dinasours and loaders and construction site.
It took me 4 years to accept that you’re a late bloomer (just like your dad), but deep down I know you’ll get there (just like Arlo).
It took me 4 years to realize that I sometimes coddles you a little too much (because you were my first born), just because I don’t want you to grow up too fast…
Be it your strength or your flaws, it’s my duty to guide you to be better in life. Happy 4 years old my dear baby boy, you mean the world to me (even sometimes I’m so freakin’ mad at you). Forgive me for my ineptitude, for I am still learning to be a better mom for you & your little sister.
{Till date, I still snick into his room and plant little kisses on his face while he’s asleep. }
