I'm writing Kyle an email every day this year and while sometimes I write Kyle three emails in one day and post-date them (DON'T YOU TELL ME THAT'S CHEATING), it's been one of the best decisions I've made. In a while. They're capturing funny things he's saying these days, quality time we're spending together, and also the times he's being so FOUR I can't think of anything else to say in the body of an email except GAH I NEED A DRINK AND YOU ARE STILL SCREAMING FROM TIME-OUT. If he chooses to have kids, he will totally understand those particular emails one day.
Anyway, I thought I'd share a few here, every now and then. I don't know why. Maybe to just remember for myself since I try not to go into his account other than to keep it active. Here's tonight's...
I decided to write you an email every day for a year because I hoped a few of these emails would capture things we'll all sadly forget one day, a few would share funny stories, and the rest would give you a glimpse of what your life was like when you were four.
I also hoped that when you one day match your vague, fuzzy, just-forming memories of this time against these emails, you may get a better sense of who your mom is and was. I don't know how you'll see me in hindsight, or how your memories are creating me right now, and I wanted to give you just a little more of a record of this time.
I also wanted to give you a sense of the kid you are right now, the four year old you'll (unfortunately) never really know yourself. I would have loved to have known myself at four. I had great hair back then until your Aunt Rachel cut it all off. And I also had great Cabbage Patch Dolls and Care Bears and Pound Puppies that would likely sell for hundreds of dollars on eBay right now. (By the time you're reading this, maybe THOUSANDS.) I would love to have known myself at age four, true, but I would also love to pull myself aside and whisper SAVE THOSE TOYS. FOREVER. Even if that had been creepy for four-year-old me.
Anyway, these emails are just trying to give you a little slice of you this year. The sweet, incredible, wonderful, blonde-headed, soulful, funny, four-year-old boy that I get to hang out with every day. He's something else, grown-up Kyle. Just as I'm sure you are right now.
I want you to know more about small Kyle, four-year-old Kyle, the Kyle who laughs so hard he stops breathing and also the Kyle that stomps his feet (JUST LIKE HIS FATHER) when it's bedtime. But at the same time, I can't wait to meet the Kyle reading this. I really can't. Do you still like to read? Color? Eat cinnamon toast and chicken fingers?
Do you still laugh as hard?
Man, I hope so.