April 17, 202012 - 200140 years 8 months / 200136 years 0 months
Happy 4th Birthday, Baby Boy
Dear Elliot,
Forgive me, for just a moment. I need to start this birthday letter out in the most clichéd possible way. I cannot believe that my baby is four. My little baby can't possibly be four years old already.
But then again, of course you are four. Look what you can do.
Elliot, you are a builder. Now, informed modern parents know we aren't supposed praise our children's creations. We know that emphasizing talent over effort kills your intrinsic motivation, blah blah blah blah blah. So 364 days a year, I dutifully avoid value judgments. I describe your Lego creations as "detailed" instead of "cool." I describe your train layouts as "complex" instead of "awesome." But, baby, today is your birthday, so on this one special day, I need to tell you something. Holy Spatial Intelligence, kid. The stuff you build is amazing. It's incredible.
Honey, you are barely four years old, but if you and I went head to head in a building contest, you would beat me hands down. And when I think about how much you love to build and how skilled you are at building...it makes my heart all warm and happy.
Elliot, you are a people person. When we went door to door last Halloween, you were luke-warm about the candy thing. But the opportunity to chat with our neighbors? That rocked your world. "Hi! I'm Elliot! Who's your name?!!" When we make a library run, if there happen to be any 12-year-old girls around, it's almost guaranteed that you'll quickly entice them to ignore their homework and draw you pictures of steam trains and fearsome Elliotosauruses.
Elliot Michael, one thing I admire about my dad, Sherman Michael, and that I admired about his dad, Mike, is their knack for getting to know people. Little Dude, when I see you seeking out strangers and making them smile, I know that we named you well. And when I think about how much you love to get to know new people...it makes my heart all warm and happy.
Elliot, you are a devoted brother. It's clear that you're sure there has never been a big sister as brilliant and wonderful as yours. It's clear on the days when you ask me over and over again if it's time to go and pick up Audrey. It's clear at the times when you wait patiently outside the bathroom door for her. It's clear when you copy her drawings. It's clear when you copy her crafts. It's clear when you decide that you're done with your pasta the moment that she's done with hers.
Bud, you and Audrey are close to four years apart in age, so there's a pretty big developmental gap between you. But watching the two of you bridge that gap is one of my very favorite pastimes. It makes my afternoon when you push your level of imaginative play up to the limit, and the two of you can pretend that you're a Pteranodon mother and baby diving down our retaining wall to catch leaf fish for dinner. Little Boy, it's so sweet the way your desire to emulate your sister makes you push yourself to accomplish new things. She's the reason you learned to walk at nine months. She's the reason you're learning to write at four. But even more than I love the way you worship and copy your sister, I love the way you two treat each other. When I think about how Audrey offered you her precious new dinosaur toy because you were having trouble sleeping last night...when I think about how you draw her pictures of birds and dragons, because you know those are things that she likes....it makes my heart all warm and happy.
Elliot, you are an artist. This is a brand new identity for you. You've made a hobby out of drawing trains for a while now, but over about the past month, drawing and crafting have become your new passions, and you want to capture everything that you see around you on paper. When we took a trip to the Mojave Desert and the Natural History Museum in L.A. over spring break, you filled up an entire sketch pad with images of cactuses and dinosaurs and skeletons. Belby Boy, when I look at the ever-more-detailed artwork that you produce...when I think about the way you are expanding your interests and honing new skills...it makes my heart all warm and happy.
Elliot, you are a sweetheart. Lately, Daddy and I have found that you fall asleep best on your own. So a few nights ago, while I helped your sister with her bedtime routine, Daddy brushed your teeth, read your stories, kissed you good night, and quietly left the room. Soon you were both tucked in, and I had a couple of free minutes to read the newspaper. But, alas, my e-reader was on the nightstand next to you. I knew you probably wouldn't be asleep yet. I knew it would probably disturb and distract you if I came in to grab it. But, being in a reckless and readerly mood, I made the decision to chance it.
Sure enough, as soon as I tiptoed through the door, you sat up.
"Mommy, I need something!" you implored.
"I just need to grab my Nook, baby," I shushed you.
"I need a goodnight kiss!" you insisted.
So I gave you a kiss, and tried to sneak away.
"Mommy, I need something!" you implored.
"It's time to go to sleep baby," I sighed, cursing myself.
"I need to give YOU a goodnight kiss!" you insisted. And you gave me a kiss. And then you quietly lay back down as I slipped out the door.
Belbel, maybe I should disturb you when you're trying to fall sleep more often, because I can't think of anything that makes my heart more warm and happy than giving and getting kisses from you.
Happy fourth birthday, Baby Boy. I can't wait to see what new structures you build this next year. I can't wait to see what new people you meet. I can't wait to see what new games you play with your sister. I can't wait to see what new scenes you draw. I can't wait to see what new topics capture your fancy. Elliot, my sweet and smiley baby boy turned sweet and smiley big kid--have a wonderful, wonderful fifth year.
Love,
Mom
