Letter to my Son

My Mister Miles B.,

I often look in your eyes and wonder what you're thinking. You're such an old soul, even at almost-eight. We sometimes joke with you that you're an old man, but in reality you are wise beyond your years and have a sensitive spirit. You sense things that others don't. I admire your kindness, compassion, and genuine concern for others.

You are a rule-follower. (I hope that stays!) You recognize that rules are in place to keep us safe. You're my little police man, always making sure that everyone else is following the rules, especially little sister. You are logical and level-headed, just like your daddy.

I love that you're a leader. You don't seem to mind what others say about you. Even in second-grade, AKA "the tattling years" I have not once heard you complain about classmates being unkind. Because of your sensitive spirit, it is a deep fear of mine that you will be picked on. You seem to rise above it all.

I cannot fathom what your future holds. You have so much promise. I could absolutely see you as an engineer, doctor, or even, the president (God help us!). You are meticulous to detail and always want to do things the right way. And who on earth did you get your math skills from? Definitely not your parents.

My Little Bug, as you are about to turn eight, it is my prayer that you will always find your way in this big world. That you will never stray from the truth that is inside of you. And that you will always remember where home is.

I love you,

Happy Birthday, Monkey-Man! 

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