First, thank you many times over for my precious son, who is so dear to me he is life. Second, thank you that Bobby and I survived many, many hours in the car with him and still holdfast to our sanity.
That one small child can talk so much is a truly astounding. A number of times I questioned whether he was still breathing, the words were spilling fourth with such rapidity. How can he think of so much to say, so much to ask, and not tire of asking it? (Why is milk white? What letter does Grammy start with? What does that sign say? Who made the world? Is soda healthy? When's the sun coming back out? Can we look for some more trucks? Where do grapes come from?...)
Please forgive me that I occasionally wanted to stick my head out of an open window for the refreshing wash of wind to drown out his unceasing little voice. And please forgive Bobby and I for possibly overindulging him in snack foods as a means of entertainment and a source of quiet during the intervals of chewing and swallowing that stemmed word formation.
His growing brain is without a doubt a marvel. But I thank you that, on these many hours trapped together in our seats, we didn't blow a gasket, overheat, or run out of gas. Oh, and thank you that the car didn't either.
I admit, at times I thought I was being punished. But now I see I was being loved.
Thank you for our yammering ball of energy who blesses our lives daily and allows us to experience a love so deep that, when he finally falls asleep at night and gives us a break, we often spend our alone time talking about him - the endearing or hilarious things he did that day, how much we love him.
With only-very-slightly-wavering gratitude,