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Dear Dylan,
So we've been together now for 10 years. You should know, that's my longest relationship ever, by far. Sure, sometimes we fight about stupid stuff, and we don't always see eye to eye, and I certainly don't get your taste in music, but still we're close. We talk. You still want to tell your mom everything. And I love it when you fill me in on your adventures at school, and the way you've learned to use your brain to defend yourself instead of your fists. Like when that kid wouldn't stop poking you, even when you asked nicely, so you hooked your foot under his chair and yanked it out from under him, saying loudly, "And THAT'S why we don't lean back in our CHAIRS" and the teacher yelled at him and he had to move. I believe they call that "creative problem solving." Yeah, it's sort of mean but that kid totally had it coming.
I love the way your mind works, Dylan, the way it's just a little bit different from everyone else. It makes you so much more interesting. Of course, being so very, very bright comes with its own set of challenges and rewards, including an exquisite sensitivity which paints everything around you in ultimatums and extremes. I have to remind myself of that from time to time, that the way you feel things is amplified and passionate and weird and wonderful.
Your life changed in a very fundamental age when you were very little, and we've gone through some rough patches as we all make adjustments. But over the past year or so, I've watched you really come into your own. You seem more comfortable in your skin, more controlled, more empathetic to how other people are feeling. You have this sly sense of humor that catches me off guard and makes it impossible to stay angry with you. You're good to your sister -- most of the time. And you're a wonderful son. I can't always buy you the things I'd like to, but you never complain. All you ask for is time and attention and affection, things that are easy for me to give.
I'm incredibly proud of you, and I feel blessed to be a part of your life. There's nothing about you I would ever want to change, except possibly your chicken-scratch handwriting. Also, someday I will beat you in Halo.
I love you, Dylan. Happy Birthday, kiddo.
Always,
Mom
"Beautiful Boy"
So we've been together now for 10 years. You should know, that's my longest relationship ever, by far. Sure, sometimes we fight about stupid stuff, and we don't always see eye to eye, and I certainly don't get your taste in music, but still we're close. We talk. You still want to tell your mom everything. And I love it when you fill me in on your adventures at school, and the way you've learned to use your brain to defend yourself instead of your fists. Like when that kid wouldn't stop poking you, even when you asked nicely, so you hooked your foot under his chair and yanked it out from under him, saying loudly, "And THAT'S why we don't lean back in our CHAIRS" and the teacher yelled at him and he had to move. I believe they call that "creative problem solving." Yeah, it's sort of mean but that kid totally had it coming.
I love the way your mind works, Dylan, the way it's just a little bit different from everyone else. It makes you so much more interesting. Of course, being so very, very bright comes with its own set of challenges and rewards, including an exquisite sensitivity which paints everything around you in ultimatums and extremes. I have to remind myself of that from time to time, that the way you feel things is amplified and passionate and weird and wonderful.
Your life changed in a very fundamental age when you were very little, and we've gone through some rough patches as we all make adjustments. But over the past year or so, I've watched you really come into your own. You seem more comfortable in your skin, more controlled, more empathetic to how other people are feeling. You have this sly sense of humor that catches me off guard and makes it impossible to stay angry with you. You're good to your sister -- most of the time. And you're a wonderful son. I can't always buy you the things I'd like to, but you never complain. All you ask for is time and attention and affection, things that are easy for me to give.
I'm incredibly proud of you, and I feel blessed to be a part of your life. There's nothing about you I would ever want to change, except possibly your chicken-scratch handwriting. Also, someday I will beat you in Halo.
I love you, Dylan. Happy Birthday, kiddo.
Always,
Mom
"Beautiful Boy"
Tequila Red called it a day @ 11:29 AM
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