You are…my dude. My two year old dude. You are clumsy as sin. You are stubborn as hell. You are defiant as humanly possible. And you also have the most incredible laugh, give the most sincere hugs and kisses, have a social awareness that most people never find, and have drunk strength constantly.
You are beloved everywhere you go because that smile (and that hair) and that list for life is inspiring. I’ve heard that your personality is defined and well in hand by age 2. If so, I’m as proud as I can possibly be mostly because I couldn’t be prouder.
You’re my dude. As time moves on I get How this father/son thing goes. You will never copy me. You will react to me. You will see things I do and find ways to do them better. You will see things I do poorly and chart your own course.
But my dude, there are things I do that you’ll never know or see. You’ll only hear about. Those complete the story. Because those happen after the fact. When you can’t react; you can only.