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Dear Mommies (Letters from my Son)

May 12, 2013

Dear Nanny,

I’m really happy when you come to visit me. I like your glasses and your smile. You take me to the park and push me in the swings and I think that’s really fun. I like reading books with you. I also like playing puppets with you. You do silly voices and it makes me laugh. Even though I don’t get to see you very often, I know that you’re my Nanny. I know your voice, and it is a voice of calm and love and gentleness. It is a voice that takes care of me.

I also like it when you send me toys and clothes in the mail. That makes me like you even more.






Dear Nonni,

I like singing with you. Even when I was a little little baby with no teeth, I remember you singing to me and how I’d sing back. Do you remember when we sang at the kitchen table during my Thanksgiving visit? I do. I love how you are always so excited to see me and talk to me. You make me feel special inside. I like it that when you come over, you shove past Mommy and Daddy and go right to me. That is the way it should be. I like playing my piano toy with you, and also playing balls.

Also, you take really good care of me when I’m sick. I was really sick the last time you came to see me. You rocked me and sang songs to me and patted my head. I liked that. You are really good at being my Nonni. I am excited to be big enough one day to come swim in your swimming pool. Maybe you can even teach me piano and we can sing songs together. I would like that a lot, wouldn’t you? And thank you for praying for me. I like to pray too, and I think God listens to us both.

I love you.



5709_671061326245_1323323461_nDear Mommy,

It hasn’t even been a whole year yet that you’ve been my Mommy, but I think you are the best mommy for me. You are really good at changing diapers and picking out my clothes and making sure I always have the toys I like for rides in the car. You give good baths and make my oatmeal and prunes with just the right amount of prunes. I like playing toys with you and watching you do silly dances. You make me laugh, Mom. You are funny and nice and really pretty, I think.

But Mom, I know it’s sometimes hard to be my mom. I know it’s hard to be the one I always want to be with. I know it’s hard to not get a break, especially because I still wake up in the middle of the night a lot. I’m sorry. I know it takes a lot of energy to play with me, and lots of patience to teach me, and lots of deep breaths when I spit my food on you or keep throwing my toys on the floor. I know I can be tricky to figure out sometimes.

But you are the only mom for me. You are the only mom that could have ever fit me. When I was hanging out with God in Heaven, before He sent me down to you, He asked me to pick the type of Mommy I would want someday. God let me look at you and hear your voice and smell your hair and I knew, I knew before I knew anything else, that you were the Mommy I wanted to be mine. I knew we were the perfect fit, you and me. So I asked God for this very special favor if I could have you as my own, and He said yes.

I really like the feeling of your hair on my fingers. I like that when you pick me up out of my crib, you always kiss my cheek before you do anything else. I like that you put my head in the space between your shoulder and your neck and you let your face rest against me. I feel safe and loved that way. I like the way you smell and the way you sing songs to me. I like it when you make silly sounds and teach me how to play hide-and-seek with Dad’s baseball hat. I think it’s funny when you pretend to bite my piggy toes and how you dance around the kitchen shaking my maracas. I think you are smart and creative. Even though I spit out my peas when you make them, I think you are a good cook. The kitchen always smells good. You are a good reader, too. You do the best “chomp” sound when we read Chomp!.

So anyway, Mom, I just wanted you to know what I think of you. I wanted you to know I love you the most. Even though I can’t always say it right, I hope you know how happy I am that when I opened my eyes for the first time, it was your face I saw. I hope you know I will never forget the first time I reached out and felt your finger because it’s the same feeling I get when I hold onto you now – I am loved, I am safe, I am cared for. I am someone’s boy. I am someone’s son. I am someone’s beloved.

I love you, Mom. Happy first Mother’s Day.



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