To Malcolm — on your 4th birthday
To Malcolm,
4 years old feels like a big one
It wasn’t just when we brought the baby home that you felt so big in my arms — suddenly super-sized, shedding all the chub
No, it happened a little each day until recently when I realized that your body has elongated, your face has shifted, a little more kid-like than toddler
But you, my love, are even bigger than I describe
So much more of a force of love and light than you can conceive
I want to bottle you up
Your sweetness, your zest, your little quips and character
The faces you make, the sarcasm that rolls off your tongue
The way you negotiate, tell me what you want and don’t want
How wise you are, quick you are, and endlessly loving
I never expected for you to make me laugh like you do
Like when I ask you how you slept and you exuberantly answer with ‘Terrific!’
Or when you describe something small, no matter what it may be, as a ‘shrimp’
Or when I ask for your help and you holler an ‘a course!’ across the room
You don’t miss a thing — the way you can pick out the slightest change to a space, a new book on the shelf, a teeny tiny lego person on the other side of the shop window — we call these your ‘sharp eyes’
You surprise me with the funny tidbits you share with others — like ideas about parmesan and maple syrup scented playdough or how you’re ‘hilarious’ just like the Joker
You like the facts — you like to know it all
A one-track mind that gets hooked and completely obsessed, falling head over heels for the thing and never looking back — I love that about you
How we went from never going fifteen minutes without the mention of diggers, to one day burying the hot wheels under piles of superhero books, you begging me to make you a Batman mask, and becoming versed in all things Marvel
You like to ask questions you already know the answers to — just a pop quiz for your people — like ‘Mom, who wears black and flies?’
You’re a little squeamish — well maybe a lot squeamish — gagging at the sight of a poopy diaper and covering your eyes when you see that someone has food on their face
You’re interested in tackling — running full-speed at your dad and pummeling him to the carpet
You’re also content to sit for hours, tinkering with your lego blocks, building something new, immersed in an imagined world
You have come out the other side of your transition to being brother — one we watched you grapple with and embrace
You show your little brother such cool kindness — treating him as an equal from day one — never coddling or tiptoeing
Your softness shines through in the most beautiful moments, like at a doctor’s appointment when you gently touched Jack’s shoulder and whispered in his ear ‘Malcolm is always here with you, little buddy.’
You know how to point a mirror in my face and show me who I want to be
You show me how to be brave
You make me swallow my reactions and force me to lean into trust
You bring me ease when you say ‘It’s gonna be alright, mom.’
You force my resilience when yours illuminates so brightly — bouncing back from our first trip to the ER — just rolling with it and exuding patience and acceptance — I want to be more like you
You demonstrate unwavering forgiveness — it flows from you — never holding anything within for long, just releasing and quickly hugging, forgiving, forgetting
This year was particularly special because I got to fall in love with you all over again
This time, through the eyes of Jack — the little baby who stares at you with awe, follows you eagerly, and shrieks with delight when you sneak around the corner
You show me how to love, Malcolm
You show me how to forgive, how to be present, how to get out of my head and soak up the little, most precious things about life
To see you grow is exciting every day
I love you spunky, I love you sassy, I love you joyous or downright grumpy
And of course, I love you forever
