Dear Boy Wonder,
In regard to your teary pleas Saturday to come for an early morning walk with me, let me state for the record that no one—least of all your utterly partial mother—could resist your passionate insistence not to be parted. Those big hazel eyes! That adorable quivering chin! No matter that I intended on briskly walking four miles around Lakeshore Park discussing matters inappropriate for small ears with my girlfriends. No matter that you hadn’t had breakfast. No matter that you desperately wanted to take along a yellow metal truck so gigantic you can actually sit in it and roll downhill. All argument was futile in the face of your winning determination, and so against my better judgement, off we went: You, me, and the gigantic yellow truck.
Although previously unreached, it turns out your six year-old boy energy levels actually do have limits. Especially in the absence of breakfast. About one mile into it, you decided you would have nothing more to do with pushing your truck. The metal truck you love, and for that reason, could not bear to leave in the parking lot where we could return for it later. So I agreed to carry the truck for the remainder of our walk. An entire mile. An exercise for which my right shoulder is still suffering days later.
Which in a roundabout way leads me to the reason for this missive: There may come a time in your future when you wonder what mothers are for, other than to nag you about cleaning your room or eating your vegetables. You may resent me or be angry with me or think you can do it all on your own. You may question what it is I actually DO for you. But here's the thing, Boy Wonder, just so you know: I was good to your six year-old self. I listened to you, I carried your gigantic toys when you could not, I helped you blow your nose, and I laughed at your terrible made-up jokes. I held you while you ate breakfast and cuddled with you at night and took your temperature when you coughed. I read you books about trucks, water power, flags, trains, gemstones, and glaciers until my eyes glazed over and my voice cracked. We had a lot of fun together. Even when I couldn’t move my shoulder for days afterwards.
You won't remember all this when you grow up, but I want you to know--your mother loves you. She always has.