I think I have finally come to terms with the fact that raising you is going to be my greatest challenge. I know I am going to be looking forward to years of calls/notes/emails from teachers because you challenge everything and want to do things your own way. If I say black, then you say white. If I tell you to go this way, you tell me that you want to go that way. If you are told that the sky is blue, you will find a way to convince everyone that it is green and it always has been that way. You are determined and strongly believe in yourself and your ideas—and although it can prove to be rather difficult on a daily basis, I envy you for that. I hope that you will continue to believe in yourself and only grow stronger in your convictions as you get older. However, for the purposes of my sanity, I think I will direct all teacher correspondence to your father…
Complimenting your strong personality is your amazing ability to read people and diffuse a situation. Just when I think you have pushed me to the point of no return, you turn around, crack a smile and wink—or wiggle—or give me a hug. Once you turn on the charm, then all hope is lost for me and I dissolve helplessly into laughter, only to encourage more of your goofy behavior. Not a day goes by when you don’t succeed in eliciting a deep, heartfelt laugh from everyone in the house. Of course, it doesn’t really help my discipline efforts, but I have a feeling your sparkling charm may help you to avoid getting into too much trouble.
Some of my favorite photos that truly illustrate your quirky personality were captured a few weeks ago just after we got our new table, complete with chairs that had arms. One of the nice things about having arms on the chairs is that it helps to keep mischievous little boys in their seats—or so I thought. Despite being told to stay in your chair, you had other ideas about what you wanted to do. I turned my back for a minute, and the next thing I heard from you is “I stuck!” When I saw you, I could not help but to burst out laughing and immediately reach for my camera on the counter to capture the moment—it still makes me laugh thinking about it, even though you were pretty ticked off at me for not coming to your immediate rescue. And obviously you recovered quite nicely as you immediately climbed back up on the chair and pointed out to me where you had just gotten stuck!
I hope that you will continue on and read the next letter by Jaimie Hurst in our “Letters to Our Children” blog circle!