Hello, My Gorgeous Girl,
This week, we registered Luke for preschool. The same preschool where you went and led all its teachers to expect LaBars to be patient, subservient goody two shoes.
(Insert image of Luke laughing maniacally here)
I know, I know. You’re probably thinking, “Wait, isn’t this my annual birthday letter? Why are we talking about Luke right off the bat? All we do is talk about Luke. He gets everything! Gaaah!!!!” And you would be right. But I started this way to get to this: your former teacher, who was overseeing registration, asked how you were doing in kindergarten. When Dad replied, “Great!” she had a follow-up.
“Is she still helping everyone?”
“What do you mean?” Dad asked.
“When she was in my class, I always sat her next to a student who I thought might need a little extra help or encouragement," she said. "She was so great about sensing when someone needed her. She is such a good helper.”
I honestly can’t think of a more accurate way to describe you. I mean, I might add a few other attributes: boundless empath, energetic goofball, endlessly patient (for the most part) big sister. But the part of your personality that I have adored so much since you were small continues to shine through in you every day. You are always thinking of others and how you can make them feel happy, safe, and loved.
God knows we need all of that kind of positivity we can get these days. It’s been a rough year, girl. We are in the middle (maybe the end? Please, God, let it be nearly the end) of a pandemic that brought your second year of preschool to an abrupt early end and made the start of kindergarten more about social distancing and hand sanitizer than noisy cafeterias and Red Rover. Yet that did very little to hamper your excitement.
Who was ready for kindergarten? This girl.
Even in a mask, I can tell your facial expression says, “God, Mo-om! Leave me alone. I’m tryna get on the bus. GOD!”
Regardless of things being a little unconventional, you can’t get enough school. You love learning. You love your teacher. You love riding the bus. But most of all, above every single other aspect of anything to do with the educational system in this country, you love Jonah.
Jonah has been the main focus of your attention since the day you were seated next to him in class. In our “keep six feet away from anything that breathes” society, that meant he was the closest person you had to talk to, to laugh with, and ultimately, to envision an entire future with. You would come home every day and doodle in your sketchbooks image after image of you two dancing or holding hands with thought bubbles full of hearts and happy faces. Some took your love story to a whole level. They say a picture speaks a thousand words, so I will just leave a particularly interesting one that you drew right here.
That’s exactly what I looked like pregnant.
Girlfriend, I have never, ever in my more than a decade with your father, seen him rendered utterly speechless until the moment you handed him this drawing. He was flabbergasted, dumbfounded, downright gobsmacked. It was hilarious.
And while Jonah seems to return at least some level of your infatuation, sadly, he is not the boy in this world who loves you the absolute most. That distinction lies solidly with your brother.
I have never seen another person more in awe of another human than Lukey is with you. Everything you do, he wants to do. Everything you say, he parrots. Everywhere you go, he goes. Every toy you want to play with, he wants too, often at the exact same time.
Writing this all out makes it suddenly very apparent why the relationship is more than slightly one-sided. I mean, you clearly love him. You give him hugs and let him wrestle you and chase you and dance and sing and laugh and scream and drive me crazy with you. But I often catch you shooting me a “OK now make this stop” look that only an elder sibling can understand. If you two are anything like me and my brother, this phase will last for a few more years, followed by a few years of intense, raging hatred (ask Uncle Eric about the time I maimed him on a plane to Phoenix. Or the time he lifted a Power Wheel convertible over his head Hulk-style and launched it into my legs. True stories), followed by a general acceptance, followed by one of the closest friendships of your life. I promise—just give it two decades, three tops, and you’ll be ready to reciprocate all the love he feels toward you right now.
Speaking of growing older, I cannot believe how independent and self-sufficient you are becoming at the ripe old age of 6. Every day, it seems like you need me less and less and I need you more and more. You help me every day with Luke. You are my assistant in the kitchen. You create beautiful artwork that makes me smile and nearly always ends up on the fridge so I can admire it again and again. Basically, you’re always finding new ways to fill my life with love and joy, just as you always have. You never stop amazing me, and you never will.
I love you more than you can know,
Mom
