Dear Son,

I promise to care about swords at 6:17 in the morning.  To care enough that if we both throw on shoes we can go outside and fight if you try not to get to loud because everyone on the planet is still asleep.

I promise to look at your day, through your eyes, because getting bossed all the time is no fun if you don’t get the chance to boss back every once in awhile.

I promise that your job is not to be a third adult in this house, even when you look like you can do it.

I promise to try and get you around other kids a lot because being able to look people in the eye is important.  For your mind, for your neck, for your imagination, and because that is what it takes to move around in the world.

I will play in the rain and snow with wild abandon because that is how you do it.

I will pour my hopes and dreams into myself, so as not to crowd out your hopes and dreams with my own.

 

I made choices about how I would use my body to have kids.  One and done.  That means that I promise to take on the responsibility of demonstrating joy, and lighthearted exploration.  Kids with siblings have someone to slay the dragon with. I promise that as well as I can, I will put on my helmet, grab my shield, and head into the woods.

 

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