A slightly different version of the boy I always knew you’d be.
Big, expressive brown eyes, always watching and observing, sweet baby face that reminds me so much of your Grandpa.
You love cars and trains (especially the little blue Thomas die-cast you carry with you everywhere).
Toy Story is the gospel upon which your life is built (and Buzz Lightyear is technically the first friend you ever made).
Rough-housing with Papa is one of your favorite past-times (and, more than that, all the swinging and tossing and jumping from high places helps you make sense of the world and all its confusing signals).
You give the best hugs I’ve ever gotten (all tight and squeezy) and you never complain when I kiss you goodbye in front of your teachers.
You let your little sister climb all over you (she absolutely loves “her Baby”) and you happily sit and watch your big brother play Lego Batman every evening.
Once upon a time, you sang all the songs you knew by heart in the sweetest little voice (I could never get tired of hearing your renditions of “Number Rock” and “We are the Dinosaurs”).
And even though you haven’t spoken to us in months, and you’re still deathly afraid of dogs and water and being surrounded by too many people…
I know that you’re going to be okay, because I’m not in the business of giving up on you, not yesterday, not today, not ever, ever, ever.
You’re YOU, and that is something worth fighting for.