Letter to an almost 5 year old

Dear Henry,

Of all the almost 5 year old boys in the world, I’d say you are the best.  By far.  You are kind, funny, smart, quick to make friends, loving, forgiving, and did I mention loving?  You tell me you love me at least 30 times.  30 times before you even bound out the door to go to school.  If for just one day, I had a dollar for every time you tell me and your Dad you love us, we’d be well on our way to bringing Charlie home.  

It takes you forever to get dressed in the morning because between each item of clothing you run into our room saying, “Mom, you’re the best.  Give me a hug.”  

You have taught Gracie to say “I love you” because you say it so much.  And we get stuck in a round robin love fest.  “Mom, I love you.”  “I love you too, Henry.”  “I wub you Mama.”  “I love you too, Gracie.” “Gracie, I love you.”  “I wub you Bruddah.”  “Mommy, give me a hug.”  And then you tackle me to the ground and Gracie jumps on top too.

Sometimes I may seem annoyed that you demand hugs and ZERO KISSES sixty times a day when I’m trying to get dressed, get shoes on your sister, find my keys, take a casserole out of the oven, research orphanages in China, fold laundry, put away groceries, paint picture frames, vacuum, put away your clothes, get out of the shower, put on your bike helmet, and teach you to make your bed, but know this:  I will always stoop down to take you in my arms.  Even when you are so tall that I have to stand on my tippy toes to do so, I will also always steal a kiss.  You will never be given the option of ZERO KISSES.  Never.

You are my big big boy and I’m proud to call you mine.  

P.S.  Please stop talking about Super Mario Brothers all the time.  It’s embarrassing.  I get it.  You like your Christmas presents.  And yes, we know you want Mario Kart for your birthday.