Bode,
It’s tough to believe you’re 5 as Mommy adjusts to the end of your carefree preschool years and the beginning of kindergarten. You’ve had quite the year and continue to be a delightful, easy-going and sweet little guy. You thrived in preschool and when I dropped you off, everyone would stop what they were doing and shout, “BODE!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Suffice it to say, it was a place where everyone knew your name just like Norm on Cheers.
On Field Day, I caught of glimpse of why you are so beloved. While the other kids aggressively vied for their turn, you raised your hand but sat back and waited until you were called on. At first, I was annoyed you weren’t taking more of a stance–your sister and I would have forged to the front of the line like your peers. But then I marveled how you were perfectly content to cheer for your friends and relish in their moment, knowing full well your time would come.
I think it’s called patience. And you have a lot to teach Mommy and Sissy about this foreign concept.
You learned to ride your bike and are tearing around our neighborhood skate park like a pro. You’re a stellar skier (like your namesake Bode Miller) and you were one of the leading scorers on your soccer team. You have finally gained enough courage to put your face in the water, thanks in part to the private swim lesson I bought you at a silent auction because I was unable to demonstrate myself.
You are a great reader and have a true aptitude for numbers (we jokingly call you “Rain Man.”) When Mommy and Daddy were in New York, we bought you a large number chart that we taped to the pantry door. Sometimes when you’re having a bad day, you’ll hang out in front of it, analyzing your favorite numbers.
I hope balancing Mommy’s checkbook in a few years will be equally as cathartic.
Last month, your dad and I realized we’re failing on instilling a strong work ethic within you. In your defense, cleaning out the ditch was a thankless job but your reaction is one I’ve never seen before: Disbelief, outrage, extreme mourning and then murmuring. Your dad and I had to conceal our laughter to see you, tears streaming down your face, muttering fake swear words under your breath, as if every pent-up frustration you’ve ever had toward our parental dictatorship was brewing over.
It just gets worse from here, Son.
Despite your uncharacteristic outburst, you are sweet and agreeable most of the time. You live in a world of black and white and have the gift of discernment to know, even at a very young age, what is good and what is bad. Suffice it to say, your sister (who lives in a world of gray) frequently stresses you out and we will undoubtedly form a support group during her teen-age years.
You absolutely LOVE Mario. Seanus and Seanie are your Wii buddies and you recently gained the admiration of my friend Lisa’s son Keith who is six years your senior. He was initially hesitant to hang out with you but after a few hours, he was a Bode convert after you both made it to level six for the first time. I started to compliment Keith but he interrupted and admitted, “It was all Bode who discovered a secret passageway. He’s really amazing.”
If you had a different mother who did not drag you all over tarnation, you’d be content to hang out at home but you’re a seasoned traveler and braved 31 hours in the car on our road trip to Canada. Your favorite trip ever was our Disney Cruise but you love adventures in our backyard as well. One evening, we took a family bike ride to the water tower. As you raced down the hill, Jamie had an epiphany.
“That’s him. Bode as he is right now. He is who I saw.”
I immediately knew what he was talking about. Before we got married, Jamie told me about a very revealing vision he had where he saw our children: a boy and a girl.
That revelatory glimpse had all been forgotten until that moment as we looked at you laughing, racing and playing. It was as if our past came full-circle with the dreams of the future. We are a family and are so very grateful to have you be an essential…and eternal part of it.
Love,
Mommy
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For a stroll down memory lane, birthday letters 1, 2, 3, and 4.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 