You, my dear Caleb, are a Momma's boy - and I love it. A few weeks ago, you went with your Daddy to run some errands and you brought this beautiful bouquet home for me. I assumed your Daddy had something to do with it. Quite honestly, though, he admitted that all he did was pay for them. While you were out, you asked if you could please get some flowers for me and that you would use your own money. You didn't have enough, but Daddy was happy to help out, since you were making such a nice and thoughtful gesture.
I loved your smile when you gave them to me. You know I love surprises and you were so proud that you had thought of such a wonderful surprise for me. You can tell when you're doing something good that is going to make me extra happy. You get a shy little look that hides behind your smile. When it's time for you big boys to put your laundry away each week, you load Owen's laundry into the basket for me after you finish, just because you know it blesses me. YOU bless me. In big ways and in small, you bless me, just by being you.
You're more than half way through your first year in school and it has been absolutely amazing watching you grow and learn. You're starting to read and write. You love writing sentences, making up songs and drawing - and you do a great job! Your creativity is incredible. It doesn't matter what you're doing, you never fail to impress your audience.
I don't know how many times [because it has been too many to count] that I've looked at you lately and felt a pang in my heart because of how grown up you are. You just seem so big, grown up and self sufficient - and you're only in Kindergarten. It makes me wonder what it's going to be like when you're in third grade and then in seventh. Yikes. I can't even think beyond that, because I know it'll be here FAR too soon.
Whenever I think about how fast you're growing, I always think back to when you were a baby. I remember so clearly the time when you were a super-fussy, hard-to-please, colicky baby. It was SO hard and I felt so ill-equipped to care for you. The books I read said that you'd stop being so fussy when you were about six weeks old. Knowing that didn't help a bit. In the middle of it all, I could only keep rocking and bouncing you while I cried, because it seemed like you'd NEVER be six weeks old. Now you're six years old. You're going to be seven this summer and I hardly know where the time has gone.
It's flying...
You are a precious boy, Caleb, and I love you so very much!
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