Note: this was originally drafted six months ago in September even though it's just now being posted, so I'm back-dating it. The delay was in hopes I would gather pictures, but that will have to happen sometime later.
Dear Brennan,
You are now FOUR years old.
Since I last wrote, you became a big sister. You once told
me that “everything” would be your favorite when you became a big sister, and I
admit I doubted you. However, I couldn’t have guessed how much you would love
your sister. Once in a while you might ask, “Mommy, why do you have to do so
much for Gretchen?” or “Why do you have to hold her so much?” I answer the
questions, often asking for your help to do so, and you end up giggling by the
end.
You started school. As expected, you love it. In fact, when
I pick you up at lunchtime, you regularly want to continue playing school. The
advantage of this is that you don’t ever try to argue with your teacher!
Your adored baby, Close-and-Open-Eyes Baby, has become a
frequent topic of conversation. Much like an invisible friend, she has an
active life. She’s constantly having birthdays, and you will soberly tell me of
when she’s naughty and we are equally mortified by her actions.
You still mispronounce words or have amusing turns of
phrase. When you have a cold you regularly search out ‘neenex.’ And you will
tell me, “Mommy, we never went for a bike ride in a long time.”
You continue to be creatively driven. You can – and
sometimes do – color for hours. You love to roleplay.
Books sometimes keep you distracted for long stretches. We
recently gave you one of Daddy’s books from childhood, The Way Things Work. It
is a bit beyond you, but it hasn’t been unusual for you to request us to read a
couple sections as your bedtime story (I recently read about zippers and planes
before tucking you in). I love reading chapter books with you. We only have one
chapter left to go in The Little House in the Big Woods, and I can’t wait to
move on to the other books in the series that I remember more.
While you are quite artistic and bookish, the athletic gene
seems to be missing (don’t worry – you’ve come by this absence honestly!). And
during summer swim lessons, while I would try to encourage you to do everything
the teacher asked of you, it wasn’t unusual for you to tell me, “I just didn’t
want to, Mommy. Maybe tomorrow.”
Daddy and I really wrestled with whether or not to start you
in school early. But when we weighed all the factors, it seemed you were more
than ready, and the school, as well with many friends or family that knew you,
agreed with us. I admit my hesitation was emotional. You have a tender heart and
are easily wounded when we have to be firm with you. Add your imaginative
streak, and I wondered how you would adjust to a more rigid school day. And I
don’t know how you will react to a harsh word from a classmate, or correction
from a teacher.
However, these concerns were unfounded. You blossomed at
school. You quickly made friends with several of the girls. You are a huge rule
follower, so the teacher’s word is law. If she says that when you walk in the
halls, you need to pretend to put a bubble in your mouth and give yourself a
hug until back in the classroom or outside, you will do it very seriously and be the best at it. You
are very empathetic. Some days I would pick you up, and you would be sad. As I
would draw you out, you’d admit it was because someone had a necklace break: “Isn’t
that sad, Mommy? It was her favorite.”
And now I’m returning to this letter six months later. I’ll
end it here for now, as I hope to add an updated one. Just know that, as
always, I’m so happy to be your mommy.
Love,
Mommy
