It was 8.40am, and I found him sitting and drawing in a perfect little patch of light shining through from the kitchen window.
Dear Toby,
Tomorrow you will be three years old, and for some reason it seems like a much bigger milestone than when you turned two. Probably because there is no doubting now you have left babyhood behind and become a little boy.
I can’t really explain the feelings I have over this birthday. On one hand, I am so excited for you, especially since this is the first birthday you truly understand and perhaps the first one that you’ll remember when you’re grown up. But on the other hand, I am really sad. Sad that you’ll no longer be two, or two-and-a-half, or two-and-three-quarters (which was the first age that you learnt to say when people asked how old you were). Sad that the last three years are over, and that when I think about how quickly they went, I can’t help but imagine how quickly the next three years will go. And the next three, and soon you’ll be reading these letters for real, the day I write them. And that’s a scary thought! Because while I relish thinking about the kind of young man you’ll grow into, I don’t want to let go of these days we’re living right now. I don’t want to let go who you are right now because I love every single little thing about you in your just-about-to-turn-three-year-old glory.
I love the way you reach out and cup my cheek in your palm and look at me with such adoration. I love the way you snuggle in bed with me every morning and will stay there for as long as I want, even though you wriggle incessantly and sometimes poke me in the eye. I love the way you always notice when someone’s hurt or upset or just a little bit stressed and you come and ask what’s wrong. I love the way you make up words when you don’t know how to say something, and deliver them with the utmost confidence. I love that you have such a love and appreciation for music. I love that you come and sit on my lap while I’m editing photos and ask to see the babies and bellies. I love that you don’t care about gender yet, and you’re just as happy to play with a hot pink car as you are with a blue one. I love that you’re so tidy when you eat and you never get food all over your face. I love that you notice beautiful things like sunsets and flowers and cute little girls and always comment with such admiration and respect. I love that you get upset when I tie my hair back and tell me that I need to get my curls out. I love the way you say ‘sowwy’, ‘sumpin’, ’boutside’ instead of outside, ‘zume’ instead of ‘zoom’, and that you still can’t say an L at the start of a word, but you’re trying. I love the way you still call our car the ‘new car’ even though we bought it a year ago. I love that your favourite song is a recording of ‘Shot by both sides’ that your Dad and his band made, and that you sing all the words and the guitar solo. I love that your other favourite song is by Sia, and after that comes ‘Let’s go driving in my car, car’. I love the way you say ‘Yes!’ so precisely. I love how when you draw, you don’t decide what it is that you’re drawing until after you’ve finished. I love how determined and strong willed you are. I love the way you boss us about. I love that you love people so much. I love that everything you feel comes out in such an intensely vocal way. I love that you get over your anger so quickly. I love that singsong squealy thing you do when you’re enjoying yourself. I love how excited you get when you see us after a day at daycare, or when you see someone else you love who you haven’t seen for a while. I love watching you try and imitate the silly faces I pull at you. I love the hilarious names you come up with for your toys. I love listening to you play by yourself. I love that you pick out your own shoes and hats and pretty much always seem to get them perfectly co-ordinated with your outfit. I love that you get scared by certain things in movies and TV shows, but you keep asking to watch them anyway. I love that you still don’t get out of bed by yourself ever, but you simply sit there and shout at the top of your lungs for one of us to come and get you. I love the way you try to think of stuff to make us come back up to your room after we’ve said goodnight, and when you really can’t think of anything you look at us sheepishly and just say ‘cuddle?’. I love your gorgeously messy blonde curls, your blue eyes, your little rosebud lips, your flawless complexion, your pudgy little fingers and your pokie outie belly with your pokie outie belly button. I love that you’re still a little shorty and your pants are always too long. I love that you still get mistaken for a girl from time to time. I love that you still suck those two fingers just like you did when you were 6 months old. I love that peculiar obsession you have with ears and how kissing our ears at bedtime has become part of your routine. I love the bold and earnest way you correct us so when we sing the wrong words to a song or do something, anything, in the wrong order. I love that you notice the tiniest little bruise or scratch on your Dad’s or my skin, look all concerned and say something like ‘Owie Mummy, you hurt your finger’ and then you try and kiss it better. I love the way you sometimes call us by our names rather than Mummy and Daddy just because you think it’s funny, and you know we do too. I love that you are such a little chatterbox. I love your crazy laugh, and how much joy the sound of it brings me. I love that you laugh so much. I love that I get to see you and cuddle you and kiss you and hang out with you every single day.
I love being your Mum and I love you, more than these words, more than any words, could ever express.
Love always,
Mummy.
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