Dear Wild Bennett.

Dear Bennett,

Oh wow.  My child, you have become like unto a goldfish.

You…  never… stop… moving.

Clever boy, you’ve discovered the magic of please and it has turned into, “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!”

Bennett, I assure you that if you have the energy to beg for my coffee for 45 minutes, then you probably don’t need the coffee as much as I do.

Tooth number eight has been making some headway this week.  Additionally, your limbs have gotten longer.  Until today, your feet never skid along the grass when we pushed you on the swing.  I love to see you grow.

Please accept my apology for the way I’ve had to drag you all over the place in the name of Glass Door Salon.  The employees of all the beauty supply stores have become quite familiar with you (you and your one shoe).  In about two more transactions, you’ll probably be able to work an ATM machine as well as I do.  This afternoon you got to join me at a flooring design store while I attempted to make some selections for the garage conversion.  As much commotion as you raised over me not allowing you to be out of sight, around the corner and in the store’s shower display, you soon forgave me when I let you push the elevator buttons to get back to our car.

Buttons are your thing, babe.

And while I wandered around Tuesday Morning, not quite sure what it was I was looking for, you occupied yourself with a lovely rendition of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”  Bravo, my Benny!

Lovie, do you know how many people wish that I worked Saturdays?  I hope you do the math one day, my darling.  There are eight hours in a day just screaming to be occupied with hair services.  And while there is a certain value to that, there’s a strange and different value to us being together.  Instead of investing in my start up business, I’m investing in you.  Rather than picking up the tools of my trade, I’m picking up you.

I could have made a chunk of change today if I’d have let myself, Bennett.  But instead of that, I read to you, rocked you, taught you how to say, “No, thank you,” introduced you to Thai food, wandered around the library with you, built block towers, and on and on.  I like to think that even if I had all the money in the world, I’d just use it to get myself those fifteen minutes we had in the backyard, me pushing you on the swing, you grinning right back.

I’m exhausted, lovie; more exhausted than if I had just done a day’s worth of hair.  You resist me so.  You resist me trying to keep you at the table when reading a library book.  You resist me reaching to take my own sunglasses back from your grabby hands.  You resist me quietly attempting to put your napping body into the crib.  You resist me wiping your nose.  You resist me feeding you a normal-sized dinner.  You resist me giving you potty time (even if that IS the only time I let you have Annie’s “goldfish bunnies”).  You resist coming back inside from outside.  You resist my attempts to command your attention and refocus your intermittent lazy eye.  You resist me.

But hopefully somewhere mixed into all of that and way down, deep inside, your little boy spirit is allowing seeds of truth to be planted into your being – the truth of who you are to me, who you are to your family, who you are in this world and what a cherished boy you are to a God who loves you so much.  You are one of a kind, a warrior for good, a compassionate individual, a brilliant mind and the sort of charmer that disarms the most guarded, wounded soul, creating opportunity for healing.

Right now, you might not see past the desire to stick your finger in my bellybutton or to demand cold yogurt or to have Curious George read to you from cover to cover, but I know you’re picking up on what truly matters, Bennett.  Investing in you is a privilege that brings me greater riches than any 401K could ever hope to compete against.  These are invisible riches, sweet boy, the kind that don’t necessarily fix our leaky roof, but that do keep my heart bursting with hope and joy.

I love you.

Mommy**