Dear Will.I.Am

Happy birthday, my sweet W!! 6 years old!! Craziness. Pure craziness.

I mean, just yesterday you were the teeny tiny little 6 pound 6 oz. bundle of joy we took home from the hospital.

You were 9 months old, holding up your arms to me saying "hold you..."and then patting me on the back to reassure me you were actually holding me, too.

You were a 1 year old with your adorable "buddha" belly and 2 tooth grin.

You were 18 months old, making everyone crack up with your animal sounds.


You were 2 years old and obsessed with all things "Melmo" and with Blanket.

You were 3 1/2 years old and STILL not potty-trained, instead making me and your daddy INSANE because of your stubborness. And yes, you started preschool (hey - don't ever tell the preschool director you weren't potty-trained when you started, ok? It was kinda sorta against the rules, just a little bit).


You were my young padawan who quickly grew into a real live Jedi Knight!


And now, here we are at 6. Kindergarten is almost a thing of the past. You continually amaze me, my son. We start the year with hesitation and trepidation and anxiety....but you have taken this year and you have blossomed. You are stronger, wiser, you are more confident than ever before (even though you think your new bike that you got for your birthday goes too fast, even with training wheels...). You have a weird mix of a very structured little engineer type mind and this creativity that just floors me. You recently tested into our school district's gifted/talented program AS A KINDERGARTENER...a rarity, I'm told.

You are a social magnet, I've decided. There is something about you that draws people, young and old, to you. And I am pretty darn sure that something is your heart...you love Jesus like a mad man. You continuously amaze your daddy and I with how in-tune you are with your Jesus and how it's just the norm for you and you don't see it as anything other than the ordinary. I won't ever forget the day you asked Jesus into your heart at 4 1/2 years old. I'm pretty darn sure you have some prophetic giftings in there that just pop up at the most extraordinary times. I've learned to listen carefully when you talk because God often uses you to give me a message.

You are obsessed with your Bible. You constantly have it open, reading as much as you can...and while you are only 6 and in kindergarten, you can read as well as most 2nd or 3rd graders. A few weeks ago, you announced to me that you had finished reading the WHOLE Bible. And it was awesome. :) Made me smile. While you may not have read every word in your Bible, I'm pretty darn sure you turned to almost every single page and at least stared at it awhile. Every now and then you'd announce to me "Mom, I'm in Numbers now...Mom!! It's Jonah!!...Mom, I'm in Izzy-ah (yes, Isaiah)..." And then there was the day where I heard from the back seat "Mom - it's HO-ZA!" I'm thinking, where in the world did he hear someone being called a "hoser?" What did you say, son? "Mom, right here in my Bible, it's HO-ZA!" Ah. Hosea. Yes it is.


You LOVE to get your worship groove on. During worship, you stand in your chair on the front row, jammin' out...raising your hand and telling your God how much HE ROCKS! Your favorite songs right now are "Counting on God" and "So Good to Me"...you worship with reckless abandon, which is so out of character for you...you are my cautious, anxious one normally. God's doing something in you, my son. I can see it.


And you have an inborn (inherited) love of justice - and you are exploring what justice means. I hope you learn the difference between God's definition of justice and the world's definition of justice at a much younger age than I did. You are all about what's fair - whether it benefits you or not. You think of what's fair to others, you are concerned with everyone getting equal opportunities, even if it means you don't get something you want. And you don't like it when things aren't fair...brings to mind a recent random conversation I had with you...quite random.


We are at home from church, just you and me, on Easter Sunday. You were running a fever. A had gone to church with Daddy. Out of the blue, you look at me and you say"A says when she farts, that it's me or Daddy...but it's her, Momma. She thinks she never ever farts. That's not fair." I almost fell in the floor right there. Oh, how I love you. Oh how you make me smile.


And speaking of your sister, you have such a funny relationship with her...you adore her and she is your best friend, but at the same time, you are no longer her doormat. You still get "snookered" by her mental gymnastics on occasion, and when you do, it hurts your feelings and we are likely to see tears. But there are other times when you stand up for yourself and put her in her place. I mean, she may be taller and older than you, but trust me. You are one stubborn dude...and as for physical strength, Daddy's been playing "trade punches" with you (I'm told it's a guy thing), and he can attest to how strong you are, dear W.



So, happy 6th birthday, my son. I am so thankful to God for putting you in our family. Thank you for still choosing the most random moments to tell me that you love me. Thank you for making me smile every single day of our life.