Letter To My Son: Toothless

Dear Jacob,

My son.

My beautiful, beautiful boy.

You came into this world with a head full of black hair and long, skinny feet. I saw so much of myself in you as you looked around the world with your newborn eyes wide open that I was stunned.

I could barely speak except to say how beautiful you were.

You are 5 years and 9 months old now. Only 3 months away from becoming 6 years old. You are tall and have long gangly legs with knobby knees and a sponge for a brain.

You run gracefully and with so much power, I’m amazed when you take off to “sonic” your way to the car after I pick you up from school.

Your hair is lighter now and you have the same wishes to color it wildly and style it anyway you want, just as I did (and still do!).

You laugh at things you find funny all on your own. Your sense of humor has kicked in and there are times while I’m driving that you will crack yourself up in the backseat, unable to tell me what you think is so funny. Hearing you laugh is one of the greatest sounds, especially if I’ve made you laugh but this, you laughing on your own, makes my heart skip a beat.

I love watching your sense of self bloom. Your humor, your sensitivity and your confidence shine through as your big personality takes root. You want to help people and make things better.

And I no longer see so much of myself in you. Instead, I just see you, Jacob. I see your big smile and your wide nose. Your perfectly carved cheek bones and your dark, thoughtful eyes.


And here you stand, proudly displaying a little gap in your smile. A big day for us as you were excited to be able to slip Cheerios through your missing tooth space and I was seeing this as a beginning to bigger things.

New adventures, grown up plans and more time together making new memories. You are no longer a baby as your baby teeth slowly get pushed aside for your more grown up teeth. To make room for that big personality, the baby you were needs to be shelved to make way for all you will become.

Soon you’ll be riding your bike without the help of training wheels. You’ll be able to go on the big roller coasters and rides. You’ll be able to read all to yourself without any help. And you’ll be able to finishing your ice cream without leaving any bites left.

As you called from your room this morning, telling me that the toothfairy had visited and left coins and sprouts (or glitter), my heart swelled as I realized this was the beginning.

The beginning of being a mom to a big boy.

A big boy that would grow to be a teenager who would grow to be a man. The man you are today, reading this little note. A note about losing a tooth that may seem so insignificant in the long run of things, but to me in this moment, it’s life altering.

You were born beautiful, my son. And now with your missing tooth and the small white peak of a new tooth shining through, you are even more beautiful. Seeing that gap and your little tongue poking through makes me melt as I realize my baby is growing up right before my eyes.

I love you. I said yes to being your mom and I love being just that, through all the ups and downs. You will always be my beautiful baby, my silly little boy and someday, you’ll be a man.

A beautiful, silly man I hope.




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