Ethan's Birthday

Dear Little Man,

This past Sunday was Super Bowl Sunday. Every year that rolls around, I remember the Sunday morning I woke up with contractions…that didn’t last. However, they returned in the wee hours of Monday morning, just as record-breaking Super Bowl LI was ending in overtime. And I sat briefly in the waiting room of the hospital with Tom Brady yammering about something and his record-breaking 5^thSuper Bowl ring. Well, this year was yet another record breaking Super Bowl. Only this time, the Patriots won at a mere 10-3…and Tom Brady got his 6^thSuper Bowl ring. I promise, one day a Super Bowl Sunday will arrive and the Patriots will not be there. And one day, Tom Brady will have finally hung up his jersey. But I will always think of you.

Today you are two. It’s hard to believe and yet these past two years have gone by so quickly. You run about this house, trying to keep up with Emry. Half the time you’re carrying a flashlight, fighting off imaginary monsters. The other half you’re lugging around the red stool in an attempt to reach something you’re not suppose to reach. You are forever into things. The cabinets, the dishwasher, the dryer, drawers. If I could put child locks on everything in my house, I would. And if you’re not into it, you’re climbing it. Except your crib. Which is fine. And also why you will sleep in it until you do climb out. I am not looking forward to the day you get a “big boy” bed.

You’re also a mess. If I had had you first, I’m not sure I would have had any more children. You can’t eat a grape without getting it all over your face and hands, let alone cereal, or ice cream, or even crackers. Some days, cleaning up after you is nearly a fulltime job.

You can also fight your own battles. Emry is your best friend. If she’s not there when you get up in the morning, she is the first person you ask for. But if she picks a fight with you, watch out. Your temper can be just as fiery. You’re very good at simply not answering when I call your name. If you want to do something – even things you know you shouldn’t – nothing is going to stop you. Yes, you’re a little sinner. One, I pray, God will save.

But you are a sweet little man. You like to give hugs. You love to snuggle up with your favorite blanket Grandma Sturm made you. You say “thank-you” for anything anyone gives you, “bless you” when someone sneezes and “excuse me” when you walk by. You have a laugh that is pure delight. Bright blue eyes, a winning smile. And you love to chatter with people. Despite my best efforts to teach you independence, you are often a mama’s boy. One day, I think, I will miss that.

If someone had asked me a year ago if you would be as bright as Emry who is now sounding out words in sentences, I would have said I’d be lucky if you were five or six when you learned to read. But I take that back. Your vocabulary astounds people. You hold conversations, especially with Emry. You sing the ABCs and can count to 12. You can spell Emry and you can almost spell Ethan. You look at signs, books, or even your toys, see the letters and tell me, “Mama, ABCs!” And you soak in Emry’s phonics lessons as you sit at the table with her, mimicking back the letters and their sounds. You memorized pieces of Psalm 122 with Emry and we’re now working on Psalm 23. You do very well building towers with your blocks, putting your wooden train set together and doing puzzles. Who knows what the Lord has for you?

This past year you have found a favorite book: The Little Blue Truck. It has been readily obvious that you have a sister since your favorite music is Frozenand you love Anna and Elsa. Not to mention you can also list Rapunzel, Belle and Cinderella as characters you recognize. Not that I was concerned, but since moving to Indiana you have been introduced to super heroes by your cousin Beto. Spider-Man is by far your favorite. Hence the Spider-Man cake for your birthday…and the several Spider-Man themed gifts you will receive.

Watching you grow and change this past year has been a delight, little man. You fill our lives – sometimes to our exhaustion. But we can’t imagine that life without you, and nor do we want to. God has truly blessed us with your little life. I pray for you. I hope for you. I love you. And I always will.

Love,

Mama

Ethan – my little barista