Dear Little Man, You are learning and doing new things every day. Big deal. You're a kid. That's your job. Newslflash: your mother still thinks this is Summiting Everest amazing.
Especially because she is learning so much from you along the way...
You're teaching me how it is to play hard. To fight for the right to play. To beg, "Just one more minute, Mama," with your index finger pointed upward. I'm super bad at play. I'm cerebral. I need more play in my life.
You teach me to not be so self-preserving. You see a stack of blocks and you bulldoze them. You're not afraid. You don't even think about the feeling of seeing everything topple. You rejoice in it. Because it's fun. I need to be less preserving of everything around me. Dust to dust and all that.
You are the sneaky pete of our household. Sometimes I catch you, out of my peripheral, slithering up to your sister's lair wherein dollbabies and ponies await your exploration. I love your secret play, love overhearing you give character voices to the unicorns that are normally off-limits. And then you go back to the train table and shunt some trains like it ain't no thang.
You've been needing a LOT of discipline lately. Some creative countermanding of your cuteness has been in order. At times, you get put out on the porch. That's right. The rest of my directives and penalties were not proving effective. So, to the porch you go. To cool off. To have a sitdown with Daddy. To ponder. To pry your way back in. You are teaching me resolve. I am getting a preview of your future as our strong-willed son who is equally aware of his powers of adorableness.
Keep Calm and Teach On, my Little Man!