Too few thorns

Daniel, we promised to protect you from life’s thorns at your Welcoming Ceremony, until you’re ready to handle them yourself. We did so at Ben’s too. But there was one major difference between each of your metaphorically charged flowers. My poor sweet second-born baby, there were too few thorns on your rose! There were only a few to remove, maybe three, and I lost them. Ben’s had at least a dozen and I taped them into his baby book. Overall, Ben has also had the benefit/curse of being the first and the focus of all our new-parent anxiety and cautiousness. But now in our busy world it feels like life is just throwing hazards at you left and right, your knees perennially scraped, your face regularly bonked, and your delight in puddles getting me yelled at by the old half-naked neighbour guy to get my child out of the road (I wasn’t looking for maybe 5 seconds). You are a delightfully adventuresome guy, and it leads you into the face of danger every few moments, and I am not always there to keep you safe. How can I be? We do our best to child-proof, to put you in the care of competent, loving people, but you are good at finding the hole in the fence. And now potty training your bro, I am ever less present, finding it suddenly quiet after taking Ben for a poo and you at the top of the stairs! [We normally use a gate but he hasn’t needed it of late]. Maternal guilt is part of the package, I know. It’s not going anywhere. I just hope you know how much we love and cherish you, how important and special you are to us, how wanted you are. The hidden gift in all this will be your innate ability to handle challenges with aplomb, to stand up smiling from your falls, stronger, braver. You already are extraordinary. 

E