Dear Isaac,
On the day before you turned 9, we were running behind schedule. We went out to eat at seven, a full hour later than normal, and still had to go find a book to donate to your class for your birthday. After dinner, we headed to the nearest possible store that may sell books, which was Marshall's. Their selection was extremely limited, but we dug through the shelves trying to find treasure. And there it was: a clean copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein.
We left the store around 8:30, way past your bedtime and quite cold and dark outside. The three of us were in good spirits, not cranky at all, totally stoked that we found what we needed and excited to read some new poems. I was also excited to realize that now that you are getting older, our days together might get longer as your bedtime shifts later. Hopefully that means more opportunities for treasure hunts and funny poems and more time to enjoy your company.
You are an extremely good-natured kid. You are goofy and patient and possess such a pure, forgiving heart. And since you are halfway through Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, you'll know it when I say you are a true Gryffindor through and through. You came into this world pre-programmed with a strict code of ethics and love of liberty and mischief. You are starting to notice the hypocrisies and injustices of the real world and some of the flaws in the adults who run it, and you vow to set things right. But most of all, you want a Marauder's Map so badly, you moan in your sleep about it.
(Your sister is still too young to tell for sure, but she may turn out to be a Slytherin. Don't hold it against her; once you finish all the books, you will see that Slytherins are not necessarily 100% conniving and evil, and in many ways, Gryffindors and Slytherins are two sides of the same coin.)
Signs of your physical and emotional maturity have started displaying themselves. You are remembering your manners, thinking to hold doors open for people or to offer to bring food to your halmuni. Your voice got a little deeper, you are starting to smell "mannish" under your arms, and your socks could wilt flowers by the end of the day. You still come into my bed for a snuggle in the morning, but once in a while, you feel embarrassed when I hug you in front of your classmates. But you still let me do it. Thank you for obliging me.
One day, when they want to have an epic adventure, kids will call on you because they will know you'll be down for it. I hope that you will not allow them to talk you into doing things you will later regret; that is my biggest worry about you. However, when shit hits the fan, when the shenanigans turn into something more serious, I hope you will trust me enough to reach out to me, not only because I'm your Mama, but also because I am quite experienced at mischief-managing and damage control.
But enough of things to come; I want to celebrate the being you are right now. Lively but no longer maniacal, with budding genteelness and grace. In other words, you are a ton of fun, and I can't wait to hear all the things you've got cooking in that noggin of yours. One last year to savor my little boy before he jumps into the shower and runs out the door instead of cuddling with me, one last year before he really starts to pull away.
Love you,
Mama
