I have not kept a baby book for any of my kids, I am not great about taking videos, I sporadically take pictures, and I have only scrapbooked through Brady’s first year. But I can write. I am going to try to write my kids a letter every year around the first-ish day of school so that when they look back on their childhood they will have something to actually look at.
You are extraordinary. I am not just saying that because you are my kid. You are actually extraordinary. I have never met another kid like you and I cannot imagine that I ever will.
You want to know about EVERYTHING from how electricity gets to the house to how I know that I am not having any more babies. You are never satisfied when I do not know the answer to your questions and we have to google things quite often. You have learned how to google things yourself using the voice commands on the tablet and you recently showed me a YouTube video on how to make a generator. I am sure we will be making a generator sometime in the next decade because you are persistent.
Your determination both amazes and dismays me. I think it will be a great attribute once you are an adult, but as your mother, it makes raising you quite difficult. Most of the time, I feel like I am not raising you at all, but rather am constantly directing and redirecting your energy. Your father and I hope desperately that you will use all of your extraordinariness for good and not things like hacking into the school’s computer system.
You start Kindergarten tomorrow and I am so excited to watch you grow. I cannot wait for you to come home and tell me all of the things you have learned. You will learn to read this year and then you will be unstoppable. Right now, you still depend on me to read you directions and all of the tiny script that is embossed on the battery compartments of all of your toys.
You are very excited to start Kindergarten. I suspect the thing you are most excited about it is the reusable silverware set that I bought you to take for lunch. You have been playing with it and guarding it all weekend. I am excited for you to start Kindergarten. This is the beginning of a great journey for you. I hope as you go through school that you keep your thirst for knowledge and find something that genuinely interests you to pursue as a career.
It is hard to believe how fast these past (almost) six years have gone. Sometimes it feels like I just brought you home from the hospital. You are a big boy now and look every bit a Kindergartener, but sometimes I still see a glimpse of the little boy that you were, like today when you climbed up on your dad and hugged him and stayed there for a really long time.
Tomorrow is going to be a very long day for both of us. I promise to not cry if you don’t.