Stubborn, silly, strong-willed child of mine.
You know what you want, and you know how to get it. You push me to my limits and back again with your grit and determination. You dig your heels in and refuse to move until what you want is within your grasp. It slows you now — but one day, it will propel you.
You don't say much — not yet. But the silence doesn't fool me. I see how your eyes scan the room, how your mind turns things over before your mouth ever catches up. You speak in other ways. You've always done things your own way, in your own time. You walked late. Ran late. But now?
Oh, how you fly.
You take your time with everything — not because you can’t, but because you won’t until you're ready. You don’t want to do something? You won’t. Not a minute sooner. I’ve come to accept that. To accept that while most kids say what they want in words, you simply point.
And what a finger it is.
Tiny but commanding. You point into the fridge, the closet, the crib — directing us like a little king on his throne. We try to resist, but more often than not, you get your way.
It’s that strong-willed thing. The “I can cry for an hour and won’t flinch” thing. The “I will point and stomp and shout” thing. The thing that drives us up the wall… and makes us laugh while we’re up there.
It’s the thing I can’t stand — and love more than words. The thing that exasperates us, brings us to the brink, and back again, laughing through the madness.
Maybe it slows you now.
But one day, you’ll move at the speed of light. You’ll chase what you want — and you’ll catch it. You’ll work until you get it right. You’ll move mountains and part oceans, if you feel like it. All because of that stubborn, unshakable will.
Little boy of mine… you don't shout your strength. But it's there — in your stare, your silence, your steady refusal to bend. You know what you want. And you don't let go.
One day, you’ll do it all — not in spite of your stubbornness, but because of it.
And I’ll be right here, watching you soar.
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