Dear Liev Daniel,

Today you are three years old. I am still trying to wrap my head around this. I cannot believe how much you have grown and I am constantly in awe of you. I remember the morning when I came face to face with you for the first time. At six pounds and eight ounces, with ten fingers and ten toes, and a stork bite on your right eyelid, I looked at you and I fell in love with you immensely. You were tiny. You are perfection. You are all mine! My Liev.

For three years now, I’ve watched you grow. I’ve watched you explore the world with curiosity, demanding answers. Your constant desire to learn, to comprehend and to question every single thing fills me with incredible pride. You are, without doubt, a person of your own, a person who is very aware of his surroundings, a person with strong opinions and aversions. Even though there are days when I feel like I cannot keep up with you, I secretly hope that this is a trait that you will carry near and dear to wherever life takes you.

You are magical and you have the heart of gold. You are frustratingly stubborn. You are smart, feisty and impossibly fast. You know no fear and your energy is endless. You are constantly on the go and yet you always manage to find the time to stop and pick flowers just to take in the moment. Your ability to find beauty in every single thing is mesmerising.

When you tell me about the wonders of the moon, I am amazed. The stories you tell, spun from the wildest of your imagination, are the moments that I live for. There’s magic in your hands, the way they dance when you talk. The words you articulate are so carefully thought out and well versed. The way you transit from two different languages with such ease is all kinds of remarkable.

There are also moments when I struggle. Truth is, nobody is ever truly prepared for the challenges of raising tiny humans. I’m constantly exhausted, and you have turned me into a full-fledged caffeine abuser. But, my Liev, you are worth the dark circles under my eyes. You push me to my limits and with every test, every negotiation and every tantrum; I slowly learn to stretch my patience. The lessons I try so hard to teach you, the values and traits I strive to instil in you and the whispers of how it’s okay to not be perfect, I often find myself reminding you. It’s realising the irony to all this that I continue to learn again and again and again.  You are my teacher, as I am yours.

I love you far more than you could possibly imagine.  I know you know this.  I tell you how you mean the world to me every morning and every night and every waking moment in between.

I love you to the moon and back, my firstborn.

Love,
Mommy