Letter to Addison

Dear Addison,

You didn’t think I forgot you, did you?  I just had to get through some Easter thoughts before I finalized my love letter to you.  Yours was the easiest and the hardest to write.  You have every quality about me that makes me unique, and I could not be more thrilled about that. I love you. I love you like the plants love the sun.  Like a surfer loves the beach. Like a Mommy loves her daughter. 

You were my first-born.  You were the one my Mother warned me about.  You were the one she prayed I would have – “A child just like you.”  And you are.  And I love it. 

You are sneaky.  When I tell you not to do something, you will look at me, smile, and do it anyway.  And I love it.  When your brother is playing with something and you are bored, you will go get it from him just to see him be upset.  And I love it.  (Ok – that one I could do without, but you are 2 and that is amazing that you can be so deceitful!) And I love it. You are stubborn.  You can go on a hunger strike for days waiting for a desired dish. And I love it.  You “play” with your Daddy.  You will have some toy taken away as punishment and ask your daddy for it back.  You will bat these beautiful eyes and say, “pretty please?” and he will make you promise to behave.  Then you take the toy and resume whatever it was you were doing in the first place.  And I love it. 

Here is an example.  Yesterday, while eating breakfast, you decided you didn’t really care for the meal you were served.  You declared, “I all done.”  I told you that you would have to wait until your brother was done eating to get down.  This was fine until you heard the music from Elmo’s world coming from the TV in the living room.  You started shouting, “I get down! I all done!” I said again, “You will have to wait until your brother is done.”  This was followed by big tears and lots of shouting.  Andrew was just finishing up when the Fireman Sam theme song started to play.  He recognized his favorite music and said, “I all done! I get down.”  I started to get up to clean you both off when you stopped me, “No Mommy.  I not done. I need more milk.” And you picked up your cup of milk and slowly began to drink it. 

You are mine.  All these things are things I used to do.  They make a unique combination of traits that created this headstrong person who tries her best to raise you right.  Despite the fact you’ve never seen Mommy do these things, I can’t help but marvel at your ability to instinctively know how to do these things.  You gawk when you run.  You love to hug and be cuddled. You are one of the most beautiful people I have ever laid eyes on.  Do you know that people have said you look like a doll baby from the time you were born?  Complete strangers would come up to me and tell me how beautiful you were. 

You are Daddy’s.  You love your daddy.  You love to sit with him and snuggle him and more often than not you will say, “No – Daddy do it.”  When you were little, you had terrible reflux.  Your daddy used to sleep with you out on the living room couch because your belly hurt after you had a nighttime bottle.  You are content with playing alone.  You love to read or pretend to read.  You have this hilarious way of asking to do things until someone repeats your words and then you say, “ok!” like it was their idea. 

You are gentle. You are always hugging your brothers.  You include Alexander without being told or asked.  You are a compassionate 2 year old.  Who knew such a thing existed? 

You are amazing.  Beyond amazing.  I just cannot believe God has blessed us with you, and every day I thank my mother for wishing you upon me.  It was the best wish ever.

Love, Mommy