Today AE turns six years old.  I’m really not great at writing stuff that doesn’t involve a lot of sarcasm and/or CAPS LOCK but thought in honor of my little man I would give it a go today.

Dear AE:

I simply can’t believe it.  You, my precious baby boy, my firstborn child, are now six years old.  In some ways that six years has passed in a heartbeat, in other ways it seems almost like forever.  I can hardly remember our lives before you.  Your father and I were barely adults ourselves when we found out you were coming, as I was just 22 and your father 23.  You may not have been expected so soon but you were the greatest surprise we could have ever received in our newly minted marriage.

You’ve been through it all with us, kid – a move back to Texas from your home state of Colorado, then another big move to be closer to family.  You were with us in the three-level townhome, the tiny podunk apartment, the spacious fancy-dan apartment, and now our current home (that you helped choose with your adamant opinions on the bathroom and garage).  You’ve been through the lows with us, like that thankfully brief period when we were so broke we didn’t know how we were going to buy groceries; and the highs, like the vacations, holidays, promotions, and the birth of your little sister (well, you weren’t in the room or anything but you were there right afterwards).

You were a laid-back baby (so much so that when I would take plane trips with you people assumed you had been sedated), and continue to be a low-maintenance, easygoing child.  Sometimes you talk a lot, but that’s okay because so do I.  You are, and always have been, a complete delight.  You’re brilliant, and clever, and funny.  Each and every day you amaze me by knowing something no one your age should know.  You read everything you encounter with ease, and if you don’t recognize a word you are a master at sounding it out phonetically.  (Of course, this has led to more than a few arguments about the quirks of your native language.  For example, only recently have you stopped insisting that The Home Depot is actually pronounced The Home De-pote.) 

Your logic and reasoning skills surpass those of many adults.  This will soon become a problem, as you are beginning to figure out that you are smarter than your father and (especially) me.  I’ve always said that we’re all in trouble the minute you start using your smarts for evil instead of good.  Try and hang onto that oblivious innocence for a while longer.  For Mom, okay?

You may not be as enamored of your little sister as I had dreamed you would be, but I know you love her by the way you often stop what you’re doing to pat her on the head.  And you are always so excited when she learns a new skill, like rolling over or clapping her hands.  (When she finally learns to walk, you may not be as thrilled since it is almost impossible for you to get away from her even now.)  I know she completely adores you, and I know that once she’s a little more interesting you will be the most involved big brother ever.  You’ll be her pal, her protector, her teammate.  

I am so proud of you, Goo (and I may or may not stop calling you that someday).  I know you will excel at everything you put your mind to, and hopefully your dad and I can give you opportunities to discover what you want to do in life.  That’s what I want for you, you know.  For you to be whatever you want to be when you grow up, for you to follow your biggest dreams.  And I know you can do it, because you already know more than I do about a wide variety of things.  You can label all 50 states on a blank map, name the U.S. presidents in chronological order, use a protractor correctly and perhaps most frighteningly, you can surf the internet for free golf games all by yourself.  You’re a wonder, dude, and I just don’t know how you got to be so smart.

Happy Birthday, kiddo.  I love you.  Enjoy your Wii.

Love, Mom