Dear Jackson

You broke your promise. A couple years ago, I asked you if you'd stay three, and you happily agreed.

But I'll forgive you and wish you Happy Sixth Birthday anyway, buddy. You've turned into quite a little man. I'm not really sure whether I can call you my baby anymore. Whenever I try, you sternly remind me that you're big now. I suppose you're right. You read books by yourself, fix a few meals for yourself, ride your bike up and down the street with the neighborhood kids, and do an amazing amount of kindergarten work independently.

Kindergarten. Have you really been with us six years already? Am I really the mom to a school kid?

Turns out, I am. It's amazing to watch you. You're so quick to offer your friendship to someone, and all you ask is that they be kind in return. Not many people are that way--willing to befriend anyone they meet. I hope that's a trait you maintain. You're just as fast to run to someone's aid when they need something, whether it's a bandaid, a help up after a fall, or even a door held open. Your powers of observation about people and about the world are very keen. Dad and I are always amazed at the things you pick up on.

We've got high hopes for you, and are so looking forward to seeing you become more refined, less of the "little kid" you don't seem to want to be anymore, and more of a mature youngster. I often wish I could keep you as my little boy, but I know you want to grow up and I'll somehow have to learn to content myself with that reality.

So, since you won't stay three, enjoy being six. And next year, I'll cope with the fact that you'll certainly be very eager to turn seven.

Love,
Mom