What He Missed

Dear CPT Dick,

Last night, as I looked down at our son, sleeping for what will be one of the last times in his crib, I was shocked at how big he's gotten. I know I've often said that the baby in him is disappearing but I believe that any baby is now completely gone. Wiped out by the blossoming little boy who has captured our hearts. He sleeps diagonally now and still his feet often stick through the bars. It's time for the toddler bed, I know. Funny how I'm the one who's not ready.

For the first week after you left, he knew that you were gone and threw quite a fit. He would look for you around the house crying for "Deedee." He would point to you in photographs. And he didn't want to go to sleep until you came in to say goodnight. Finally, after much snuggling, walking around the room, a few extra hours watching Sesame Street, and, yes, the giving of the sippy cup, he would succumb to slumber. But not without a fight. It simultaneously warms and breaks my heart that he feels your absence so acutely. And yes, it scares me, too, as I know that our upcoming PCS will most likely bring a deployment with it. I hope that I am strong enough to ensure that our son knows how much you love him even when you can't be here.

Munchkin is still stubborn with language, giving up few words. But this weekend, as we went off to a playgroup, he was so excited when he saw so many of his friends playing with new and exciting toys, he jumped up and down and yelled an infectious, "Hi!" to everyone. I could barely contain myself. Maybe that fountain of new words isn't so far away and you were right in that my patience was needed more than any intervention. It wouldn't be the first time you were right but it may be the first time I've admitted it out loud.

Hurry home, baby. I want you to come back before Munchkin stops looking for you, for that would break my heart more than watching him spend so much time searching.

Love,
NEE