Dear Indigo,
You were just over five pounds when you were born. You
screamed like a raptor in those first days. We waited until Nonna and Nonno
went to find lunch to attempt to change your diaper in the hospital. We didn’t
want an audience in case we were terrible at it (we figured it out). You were a
champion napper but a terrible nighttime sleeper. (You still are, but you know
that.)
You were the only baby we got to bring home right away and
for that I am grateful. You broke us in fairly gently to the parenthood thing.
You slept. You ate. You did other baby things. You snuggled in deep. While your
sister pushed away, taking in the world,
you clung to me and examined it all very seriously and suspiciously. You
never ventured too far, too fast.
But you were curious. Curious how the camera worked at your
first school pictures at daycare. Curious how the ref’s stopwatch worked (when
you were supposed to be playing soccer). Curious what all the switches did, and
what animals were out in the world, and how astronauts breathe in space, and
how does a submarine work, and any number of other things. I adore that you are
still so curious about the world, but better yet, you’ve found a few answers
and are completely excited to tell us all about them.
You love to learn. You are still fairly serious, and have
always seemed wise beyond your years. Numerous friends, family members, and
teachers have said so too. You’re comfortable in a room with adults and can hold
your own, because it doesn’t occur to you not to be.
As you turn thirteen, stay curious. Stay confident and
self-assured. Make time for fun and silliness. Hang on to those awesome friends
of yours — they’re good people. You are going to be making some core memories with
them in the years ahead. Be safe but occasionally a bit reckless. Know that you
can call me at any hour to come pick you up and I will be there, no questions
asked. And know that I’m in your corner, always, even if you can’t see it at
the moment.
Thirteen. You are already taller than me (just a smidge, but
not for long). I startle when I realize that the low voice across the house is
coming from you, not Dad, when your voice used to be so high and giddy.
Thirteen. Yikes. But also always my lanky little raptor
dude.
Love,
Mom
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