A Letter to My Youngest

Oh Beckett, today you have been into everything, climbing out of your crib after a short nap, unlocking and walking out the side door of our home over and over again, playing in our sink.  I have put you in time out again and again.  Patiently trying to remember you are 2 and you are coordinated, quick, adventurous and smart.  A busy combination for this tired mama.  It has been an exhausting day.

I had sat you down with some new homemade soup for dinner.  We are alone, you and I this evening, not something that happens often.  We pray on our food, you like that, you begin to try out this new to you soup.  I look over a few minutes later and my heart melts.  You are praying.  Words that I can't understand, my fault I am sure, because you know what you are saying.  You fold your arms like a big boy now, across your chest, bow your head, eyes wide open, but reverent and pondering.  All the stress of the day vanishes away.

You are mine, you little boy that I love so much.  I am blessed to spend my days with you.  This funny back and forth, these games we play, as we navigate toddlehood together.  In these sacred moments of gratitude.

P.S.  Minutes after we shared this special moment, I looked up and found him.  He was spreading soup across the countertop, slapping it with his hands, soup everywhere, in his hair, in his hands, on the floor, on the fridge and wall across the room, everywhere but in his mouth.  I had to laugh.  Motherhood, never a dull moment.