Dear Axton,

This past year has been a big, busy one for you. You moved into a new home (your third new home in just two short years!), you gave up your pacifier, moved out of your crib and into a toddler bed, and you were potty-trained! Whoof-da. Talk about a lot of changes! But, on top of that, the biggest change of all: You became a big brother. Watching you transform into a brother has been challenging and yet so rewarding – for all of us. The number-one driving factor to bringing another baby into our family was…for YOU. We so desperately wanted you to have a sibling, someone we could raise you with, someone we would always encourage you to treat as your best friend, through thick and thin. I always knew you’d be great at this brother business, but each day gets better and now I know you’re the perfect first child for our family, and you are exactly the boy Rhenner needed as his big brother.

 

 

As I write this, you are currently sitting on the couch – naked, because you’re always naked – watching a show about robots and santa clause (last time I checked, anyway). We celebrated your third birthday yesterday with a cake you helped me make. We covered it in chocolate frosting and red sprinkles, because that’s what you asked for. You received lots of phone calls and sang along with whomever was calling you and said thank you when you were supposed to. I love that about you – you always say thank you.

Do you want to know what else I love about you?
I love that you give me kisses up and down my arm, that you call the meals by the wrong name (breakfast and dinner are used interchangeably), that you poke your lips under the bottom of the door to tell me, “MOMMY! BABY WANTS YOU!!” everytime Rhenner starts crying in his crib (as if I couldn’t hear him myself in this tiny house of ours). I love your big blue eyes and your one dimpled cheek. I love your swoopy blonde hair that curls just enough to tell me when it’s getting long.

 

 

I love that you love puzzles, doing mazes in your preschool books, and playing pirates. I actually love that you love movies and shows, as it makes me feel (a little) less guilty for letting you watch so much! Something else adorable you do: Whenever I have Pandora playing (Disney station) you can sit and stare at the album covers while the music plays, as if you’re watching the movie. I don’t know how that entertains you for so long, but it does! You must be playing the movie in your mind…

 

 

 

The other day you pushed the chair over to the counter, climbed up and got yourself a bowl, got the milk and cereal out, reached up on your toes for a spoon, and sat down for a bowl of cereal by yourself. When I asked you to get one for Rhenner, you happily repeated the whole process. I couldn’t believe you were old enough to do that.

I love watching the way you interact with younger kids, because it gives me hope for a beautiful relationship between you and your brother – one I can already see beginning to form.

I love that your s sounds like P’s, that you say, “Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas!” and stick bubbles to your chin everytime I put bubbles in your bath.

 

 

I love that you are inherently gentle and well-meaning, and this is something I try to remind myself of quite often. Sometimes you do things that upset me, but then I try to remember this important fact:

Rarely are you ever purposely being “naughty.” Rarely are you ever trying to annoy me, hurt your brother, wreck things, or cause trouble. More often, it’s just a matter of your three-year-old mind reacting to a situation in the way you sincerely felt was the best way to handle things. It’s just the way you’re interpreting the world around you; your perception of the best, or perhaps only, solution. If I remind myself of that, it helps to quell my temper (usually). I promise to try to always give you the benefit of the doubt.

 

 

I can’t promise I’ll always succeed, though. I can’t promise I won’t ever hurt your feelings or grow impatient with you, as much as I wish I could. But I promise to try harder each day to be the kind of mom you want, need, and deserve. The kind of mom that Heavenly Father expected me to be when He gave me you.

 

I also can’t promise that other people won’t hurt you, or – heaven forbid – break your heart. But I do promise I’ll wipe away tears, hold you if you need to be held, make you laugh, or just sit and listen in silence when it does happen. When the world crashes down around you, I will give you a home to come back to.

 

 

You don’t quite understand the concept of promises yet, nor do you understand the extent of the sadness and harshness this world will bear on you (thank God you don’t yet!) but still there are a few more things I want to promise to you today and always.

I promise I will kiss your owies for as long as you will ask me to.

I promise to always run towards you with my arms out-stretched for as long as you do the same to me.

 

I promise to never be the first to let go of your hand when we cross the street, to always share a sip from my straw or a bite from my plate, to always sing you “one more song, mommy?”

 

I promise to encourage and fuel your interests, your questions, your seeking, your desires to be different.

 

 

I promise to accept you for who you are while still challenging you to be better.

I promise to do my best to bring you up in a home that teaches you you are loved, accepted, needed in not only our lives, but in the lives of other people. That there is a purpose and a reason for your being on earth at this time. I promise to teach you that you are not only my son, but HIS son, and you therefore have a mission to fulfill.

 

 

I promise a love that never ends. I promise you will never grow too big, run too far, yell too loud, cut too deep to keep my love from you. You can always come back to me.