Dear Jack,
You have a wild imagination. You play 3 - 4 games a day . . . well, at least in your head you do. They're usually baseball games, but once in a while, you throw a football or a basketball game in there.
You give me play by plays of what happens in each game, including what position you played (although sometimes you're the coach) and what the score was. If your team won, you tell me with great enthusiasm. And if you team lost, you tell me with head down and in a very sad tone.
One morning last week, you were sitting by the window watching the rain fall and you had a really sad look on your face. I asked you why you looked so sad, and you said you were bummed out that your baseball game was canceled. You're such a funny kid.
You also have various imaginary friends, based on people you know or have heard of in real life. The first was Lillian, but she hasn't been around in a while. The most recent is Leigha . . . . whose name I know is spelled that way because the imaginary friend is based on someone who actually works at camp. You tell me that you're going outside to play baseball with Leigha, or sometimes that Leigha can't come over to play because she's at school.
When you tell me of your games and your adventures with friends, you use words and phrases that crack me up. You tell me of your "mishaps" and will stop mid-story to ask, "Does that make sense?" Sometimes it feels like I'm talking to a miniature adult.
This month, something you've said to me quite a bit is, "I love being your little boy." I think it's in response to how much I tell you that I love being your mom. Quite often you ask me what I want to be when I grow up and I always respond, "Your mom."
You turn three next month and it takes my breath away to think about it. I feel like we hit a whole new level at age three. From here on out you'll start remembering more and more of your childhood and I know it's crazy, but that feels like a lot of pressure for me. What things that I do and say today, will you be repeating and laughing about when your 15? Which of today's mistakes will you one day be discussing with your therapist?
You are so loved Jack. Loved by God, loved by your Dad and I . . . loved by pretty much everyone who knows you.
And of everything that you'll someday remember, that's what I hope you remember the most.
Love,
Mommy
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