Dear Aden

It's here. You've been counting down the days, probably since you watched your brother walk into his first day of school three years ago. In the morning you will strap on a backpack (assuming you can calm down long enough to do so) and walk boldly into your future as a certified, grown-up Kindergartener.

Oh, my sweet baby. How on God's green earth did we get here so fast?

It might have just been yesterday that I sat on that hospital bed in the pre-dawn stillness, your tiny newborn frame propped up on my legs, staring at you with an incomprehensible joy and freedom, utterly amazed that my heart was big enough to love yet another person this much.

You know what? That joy and freedom and love? It still takes my breath away every time I look at you.

Well, maybe not every time. A couple weeks ago you tried to ride your pillow racer down the basement steps.

Not my best moment.

I'm sorry, buddy, for the times that my impatience or unrealistic expectations or misplaced priorities have hurt your feelings. When I've seen you as a burden instead of the blessing you are. Because it happens more than I'd ever want to admit. And it's my greatest regret.

But tomorrow. Tomorrow, a bigger part of this world will get to not just meet, but experience you.

Because, my son, you are an experience.

The energy, the determination, the absolutely insatiable curiosity. Curiosity that drives you to touch everything you see and try everything that enters your mind without ever considering the consequences. Curiosity that will most likely land you in the principal's office a time or two.

Just keeping it real babe.

But it is this curiosity that will make you fall in love with school. Getting to know people and letting their imaginations merge with yours. Exploring the complexity of God's wondrous world, and figuring out for yourself how everything works. Growing your personality and shaping the young man you will become.

I can't wait to see it.

And at the same time, I don't want to share you. From day one, you've been mine. Mama's boy, loud and proud. To you, and somehow in spite of my gazillions of mistakes and shortcomings, I am rock and haven and provider and nurturer and snuggler and playmate and teacher and everything else you can think of.

No one loves me like you do.

And I want you to stay. But you won't, and you shouldn't. Because despite my worry over no longer being able to protect your wild-spirited body and deeply tender heart, the world will be a better place with you out in it.

So I will let you go, and trust the God who chose to bless us with you, to guide your steps, grow your mind, and guard your heart.

And as I did for your brother a few years back, I will offer you a bit of advice. Some recycled, some just for you. For tomorrow and all the days that follow.

Slow down. You're so afraid to miss anything, so fast, and so excited about everything. But the faster a person goes, the more mistakes are made. So please, just slow down a little.

And holy moly, sit still. Wiggle your legs if you need to, but tail in chair! I promise you can come home from school and run laps around our property as long as it takes you to get the energy out. Pay attention, raise your hand, and keep those ears open.

And also, please, please put some good effort into remembering things. Short-term memory is most likely your weakest muscle. I'll be almost desperate to live Kindergarten again through your eyes, but I can't really do that if you can't remember what you've done!

Do and be your best. Don't compare yourself to anyone else, because comparison is the thief of joy. God made you exactly who you are. You are His, and He loves you no matter what.

Don't write anyone off. Ever. God made them, too, and you never know how He might use you in their life. Or use them in yours. True friends are rare and precious.

Stop and think before you make a choice. Because making the right choice isn't always easy or popular or fun. But when you make the right choice, you're never in it alone. God is right there with you.

Apologize when you break things. Because buddy, you're gonna break some things. Be careful. With expensive and breakable stuff, yes, but also with other people.

Be kind. You're a fantastic helper. Don't forget to help people besides your Mama.

Do not let go of your curiosity or your enthusiasm, and never stop asking questions. You live the abundant life like no one I've ever known before. Please don't let other people's opinions or timelines stop you from loving life.

For the love of Pete, do not sweep your umpteen thousand lunch crumbs from the table onto the floor. Despite what you seem to think, it's not OK. At school or at home.

Please ignore me when I drop you off tomorrow morning, if I'm crying. Well, not if, because I will be crying. Just pretend you don't see it. Really, I'll be OK.

And never, ever, ever, no never forget how much I love you. To the moon and back, my sweet blue eyes. Beyond measure.

While I can hardly breathe with the thought of sending you off tomorrow morning, I am equally excited to start this new chapter of life with you. I'm here cheering for you with every step, your biggest fan. You're going to do great.

Because you are great.

Sleep well, chunky monkey. Tomorrow is a big day. Spread your wings and fly.

Love,
Mama