To do this letter justice for you would have been to keep a daily journal of all the kind and wonderful things you do each day for myself, and for people around you. My journal would have been full very quickly. I've never seen a child of your age (or any, really) do so much without the expectation of praise or notice. Its really quite remarkable. You see what needs to be done, and then you do it. It sounds basic, and quite unremarkable, until you look around and see the multitude of adults who don't yet grasp that concept.
"He is so sweet," I tell myself each day and many echo this sentiment, but "sweet" just doesn't encompass you. I know lots of sweet kids. I don't know any kid like you. Stories are the only way I know how to do your awesomeness any justice. Lots of the chores I give are a group effort. Brady and Jackson clean your room, Brady and Jackson empty the silverware, etc, etc. How life usually works is big brothers teaching little brothers life lessons, but its often the reverse in our house. Sometimes when I ask you guys to do something, your big brother makes a stink if you had to go to the bathroom or if he feels like you aren't pulling your weight. One day, Brady had to take a big poop right at the time I asked you guys to empty the silverware. You began working, without making a stink (no pun intended). Brady finished his business and you were nearing the end of your task, but not yet done. Brady came over and began criticizing you for your technique (ie slowness), and you weren't even mad about the fact that not only had you been working while he was pooping, but he had the gall to make mention of your speed. Mama Bear was outraged on your behalf, though, and I made sure Brady learned a few lessons on that day.
One morning, Brady was slow to get out of bed, so I told him he could be a "car-rider." You still wanted to be a "bus-rider," and after you got on the bus, I realized Brady had a fever and would need to stay home from school. I texted your teacher so she could tell you that Brady wouldn't be riding the bus home from school that day, but it seems she left her cell phone at home. At 2:30, you got off the bus bawling, concerned that Brady had been left at school. Some brothers wouldn't have cared much, and some might have actually exited the bus with a grin, but not many brothers are like you. You have a fragile heart of gold. You are my worrier, and I tell you all the time to leave the worrying to the adults, we have things covered. That's usually true.
Yesterday, while you were watching your brother's baseball game, I told you and Avery you could split a small Italian ice cup. You both were sharing nicely and when it got near the end, you told Avery, "We need to stop and save Brady some." I'm gonna let that sink in. It was already a pretty small cup that you had a split, and you were under no obligation to share with your third sibling, yet that is what popped into your head. I told you no, you don't need to save a melting treat for your brother whose team is just entering the third inning, and you said, "Why not?" 99% of kids would ask why they had to share and you were asking why you wouldn't.
You are most definitely the 1%, Jackson, and I feel so lucky to be your mom. One of our nightly rituals is for me to tell you how much I love you, and you tell me you love me more, with a knowing grin on your face, because you know I will follow it with, "That's impossible! You can't possibly love me more!" Which is the truth. But you laugh every time and exclaim, "It is possible!" and every time my heart feels like its going to burst outside my chest.
I could fill up pages about what I love and admire about you Jackson. From the bottom of your toes to the tip top of your head, you are a good and pure soul. I learn from you daily what kindness looks like, and can't wait for my future lessons.
I love you, the most.
Love,
Mom
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