Dear Austin

Dear Austin -

At 3 and 1/2, monster trucks and race cars are a big part of you. But they are nowhere near as big as your young heart. Genuine is the one word I would use to describe you, if I had only one to choose from. In a soft voice I hear you whisper "Mom, I love you," followed by an innocent grin. And in a startled panic I hear you declare "I'm so sorry," even when there's nothing to be sorry for. "It's okay bud," is what I hear you tell your baby brother, when something is not going his way, and I hear the excitement burst out of you when you shout to daddy "Gravedigga just flipped ova!", while laying next to him on the couch using his leg as a race track.

One of the things that made me so happy to be a mother, and more specifically, your mother, was that you needed me. To change your diaper, to feed you, to carry and hold you. As you grow, you still need me, but less and less. You're a big boy now, no more diapers for you! And you can feed yourself as long as there is food in front of you. I'm thankful that you still need me to carry you, and hold you. Ironically, I need that, too. Not a day goes by that I don't lean in to kiss you at every chance I get, or brush your shoulder as you run, or jump passed me just so you feel my touch.

Austin, you have shown me a love that I've never ever known before. And without you, I never would have. I love everything about you, from your green eyes, to your silly expressions, all the way down to that big old first toe that looks just like your daddy's (sorry). I love that your little heart is just as sensitive as your beautiful skin. And I mostly love that God has blessed me with such a wonderful son.