A Very Special Letter to Two Very Special 4 Year Olds.
Today is your birthday. You are both four. You can discuss it all you want, but you are both equally four. Technically, your birth certificates might read you were born a minute a part but I was there and I promise you, you entered the world within seconds of each other. One of you might be taller today but trust me son, when puberty hits, that might change for a few years. I wouldn’t get too comfortable being the tall one, she’s close behind you and eats way more fruits and vegetables than you.
Today you are four and that is special. It is special because you have another person to celebrate the exact same milestone with. The two of you have a bond that no one else will ever have with you. I know I tell you this all the time, but I don’t think you’ll truly realize this until much later in life. The miracle that took place to create two babies instead of one is something special that most of us don’t have. Most of us didn’t have a friend with us when we were in our Mommy’s tummy. You did. You were literally created with a friend right next to you. I know you don’t always think of each other as friends and you threaten to not be brother and sister anymore, but fortunately that is something you will never be able to change. You will always be brother and sister. You are special together.
But you are also special because of who you are when you are alone. Yes, you are a twin and that is special, but you more than just a twin sibling. And so, because your older brother gets his very own birthday post on his birthday, here are your very own birthday posts.
To my Sweet 4-year-old Son,
Wow. To say this has been quite a year is putting it mildly, isn’t it? I’m not sure when it started but I’m pretty sure you hit the ground running when you turned three and you haven’t slowed down yet. In one year you have done three years worth of activities. I often tell people the world moves too slowly for you. Some might say you are a bull in a china shop, but I prefer to say that the world was built too small for you. That’s why you love to be outside. When you are outside you are free. You can spread your arms wide and run and soar like an eagle. You would be outside everyday if you could. It is only because I refuse to stand outside in 30 degree weather that we aren’t out there in the winter. The cold doesn’t seem to bother you though, you are moving too fast to notice the chill. My favorite memory of you this summer was you riding your bike. It was a bike that was too small for you. You had outgrown this bike and yet you loved to ride it. You were so proud to show me how you could pedal up the driveway and glide all the way down again and up the neighbor’s driveway. I think you liked riding your bike because on the bike you are finally going a speed that is normal to you. While others might look at you and think you are going fast, to you it’s just normal. I will cherish the image of you riding that bike down the driveway in my mind.
To my 4-year-old Princess,
Today you are four. You have waited for this day for weeks and it is finally here. It’s very special to be you. At three you have come out of your shell. I used to worry that you would get lost next to your two extraverted brothers but this year you have shown the world there is nothing to worry about. It has been such a joy to get to know your personality. You are spunky and sweet at the same time. One moment you can be insisting on brushing your hair yourself and the next minute you are sitting in my lap asking me to read you a book. It must be tough being three. You are capable of so many things but still dependent on so many other things. The good news is when you are four, things will get a little easier. You’ll learn to do more things which means you will be dependent on me for even less. This will be exciting to you, but a little sad for me. It’s a tough balance for us mothers and daughters. As you strive for independence I will want to hold you tight and keep you small forever. It’s not that I don’t trust you can do it on your own; I’m sure that you can. It’s just in my mind you are still the little baby in the NICU born 5 weeks early. You’re the sweet little baby who used to love to be held for hours. It’s hard to change that mental picture. That’s why I cherish your hugs so much. They take me back every time. Promise me that you will still come to me 50 times a day and say “I Love You” like you do now. If you promise to keep doing that, I promise to keep telling you the story about how lucky I am that God gave me you.