dear pratt.

my dearest pratt,

in less than five months, you'll turn seven years old.

SEVEN.

that's three away from TEN.  that's double digits.  that will be on a thursday.  and we will need to not be at school that day.  because that day, i'll need ALL THE OILS rubbed on me.  i don't know how i'll get through it.

heck.  i don't know how i'll get through this upcoming day of birth.

seven.

how did it even happen?

i realized that i haven't written you in a while.  and so i wanted to fix it.

i think a simple story can tell so much.  and so i'll share a recent one.  you know, to sort of capture this time. this time in history.  to capture what is going on here.

you left friday to go spend the night with someone.  when max saw your bag packed, he immediately knew what was happening.

so he ran upstairs, pulled out his trunki and packed his own bag.

he filled it with the following: Blue.  pajama pants.  a batman shirt.  ONE flip flop.  ONE cowboy boot.  his toothbrush.  your cologne.  a washcloth. and his blanket.

he didn't even get it closed properly before he was hurling it down the stairs.

by the time he had gotten to the garage, you had left.

he started hollering your name.  as loud as his little voice would get.

but you were gone.

and he knew it.  and he completely and totally broke down.  instead of sitting on the ground, he plopped down on that cracked open trunki and cried.  huge, wet crocodile tears.

i ran to him and he kept saying, "i go att, mom.  i go att."

it was heartbreaking.

i carried him (and his random assortment trunki) inside.  and we sat and rocked in daddy's chair for a long, long time.  his head rested on my shoulder and he cried.

i know that you won't understand this until you have children of your own, but pratt..max's reaction to you leaving is SUCH a huge testament to your love for him.

i struggle so often with how much i put on you.  sunday on the way to cole's birthday i asked you to watch out for him.  to protect him.  and you said, "you don't have to tell me, mom.  you know i always just do that. i won't let anyone do anything to him.  he's safe with me."

you are patient with him.  you are kind.  you don't treat him any differently.  you understand him.  you know him well.  you love him.

thank you for the brother you are.  thank you for the son you are.

thank you for loving me.  and for always telling me.  thank you for letting me hold your hand in public.  thank you for giving me kisses every, single night before bed.

thank you for trusting me with your feelings. and your fears.  and your good days and bad.

i love you more than you love cereal.

xxoo.
momma.