In March, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, Bryan wrote this letter to Jonah and emailed it to me.
For some time now, your mom has been telling me that I should write you a letter. For months I’ve been saying that I don’t need to, because I write you one in my mind everyday. But here’s the thing about moms that you will learn pretty quickly, they’re almost always right…
So where to begin? 22 months ago you landed in our lives and I have to say, I didn’t know what to expect. That’s probably understating it – I was downright anxious and nervous. But the minute I met you, that all changed. People told me – “you have no idea what it’s like to love a child” – and I nodded my head and said, “Yes, yes, I imagine so.” But cliche as it sounds, they were right. Nothing really prepared for me how overwhelming it would be. Sometimes I wonder if I could love you any more and then boom, the sun sets and rises again, and my love grows a little more. If someone could bottle and sell that feeling they’d be richer than Warren Buffett.
You’ve gone from a chubby mush, to a slightly less chubby toddler – my mini Godzilla as I call you. I love to vicariously live through you as you continually discover the world a little bit more each way – a dog walking on the street, a pigeon, bubbles, a big truck, a shark, my iPad – they all illicit a “whoaaaaa” or “wowwww.” I hope that life always stays that amazing and awe inspiring for you.
Mornings have become our special time together. Whether it’s getting you ready for “school” each day or eating breakfast together on weekends while Mommy sleeps, the mornings are Joney & Daddy time. It’s our chance to be silly, impersonate Elmo, make animal sounds, build towers, sneak a snack before breakfast #1 (usually to be followed by #2), play guitar, dance to Kanye, skype with Poppy, etc. Saturday mornings can’t come soon enough (even when Daddy has had a bit too much whisky the night before…).
You love music almost as much as I do. I don’t think you know how happy that makes me. And while you really don’t have a choice, you seem to love rooting for the Jets with me as well. I’m already counting the days until I can take you to your first game and explain everything to you while you finish your 3rd box of popcorn.
And now you’ve started talking. And no surprise, you have a lot to say (you are your parent’s child of course!). This has taken the nightly ritual which is my return home from work to a new level. Walking through the door, I usually find in you room, getting ready for bed with Momma. Before I can even open the door, you’ve usually turned your head to the door, big toothy smile on your face. And then it happens – “DADDA!” – and with that you pop off the couch, and waddle your little body over to me with arms open ready to give me a hug that can’t last long enough. And then off you go, excited to show me your favourite book or toy. The tube can’t get me home quick enough.
So here we are, just a few months away from our newest addition to the family. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous again. But it’s different this time. I’m not nervous about being a dad, but nervous about how I will feel about your brother/sister. Is it humanly possible to love two of your children this much? Everyone I talk says so – much like the last time, they say, “you will have no idea until…” And I’m sure they are right. And I know that watching you as a big brother will bring even more love and happiness into our lives.
But until then, I will cherish our mornings and every other moment together. Everyday, in my head, I think your mom for giving me the greatest give I could ever dreamed of. I love you so much buddy – it’s silly. You are and will be forever, Daddy’s best boy. I love you bud,