Kyle is four years old today.
Ever since Kyle could walk, we've ingrained in his head that he must (EVEN IF I HAVE TO YELL VERY LOUDLY AT HIM) hold our hands in the street or in a parking lot. The yelling worked, because he does just that, reaches up for one of our hands whenever we hit the edge of a road.
Yesterday, after I picked Kyle up from school, he talked about the cupcakes he'll bring to his class today and about how good he listened to his teachers, and he grabbed his sweatshirt off his coat rack, all by himself, as he does, and it was all so simply how our lives are. Our lives, our routine, this is our normal. As we walked outside and reached the last step before the parking lot, he was talking up a storm ("Mommy, I have an idea, let's put a candle ON TOP of my ice cream tomorrow."), and he naturally reached up for my hand. Right before I took it, I just looked at him, this kid of mine, with his shaggy blonde hair and sunny smile, holding his hand up to me and I tried tried tried to remember it all. This one particular moment, this one particular boy, this one particular life.
I never thought life could be this simple, this bright, this beautiful and, oh, I never thought I'd have such a perfect boy to reach up for my hand, to walk through parking lots and life with me.
I've wanted a lot in my day, but oh my goodness is Kyle a million times more than I ever thought I was worthy of wanting.
Happy fourth birthday, buds.
My oh my, do we love you to the moon and back.