“You are just like your daddy.”
I caught myself saying that to my 2 year old son today, with pure joy radiating out of my heart as it slipped off my lips.
He was wearing a tool belt and goggles, walking around fixing everything he found that was “broken.” He was saying, “I work hard.”
After it rolled off my tongue, it stopped me in my tracks.
You see, sweet boy, I remember a time when I daydreamed about who you would be. A time when you were in my womb, and my soul held so much wonder about you.
In my heart of hearts, I had hoped you would possess some of my qualities. I imagined which traits of mine you would have. I wondered if you would look and act like me.
I think all of us want to see a little bit of ourselves in our children.
But sweet boy, the older you get, the more you grow, the more I see your daddy in you.
And it makes me so glad.
You see, I’m madly in love with my husband...your daddy.
He’s not perfect, but I love his imperfections anyway.
He loves hard.
He serves well.
And when I see you, my son, I see someone trying so hard to be like this man. This man I’m in love with.
I see a little boy trying to help mommy fix broken toys.
I see a little boy calling mommy “pretty” when she just wakes up in the morning with messy hair and no makeup.
I see a strong willed little boy, who won’t be afraid to stand on his ground of truth.
I see a little boy who could spend hours outside playing in the dirt and exploring.
I see a little boy who doesn’t give up.
I see a little boy who gives relentless love, hugs and kisses.
I see a little boy who loves serving and who loves helping others.
I see a little boy who loves to pray. Who sometimes reminds mommy to pray before we eat together.
I see a little boy who is so passionate about everything he does.
I see a little boy who talks like his dad, walks like his dad, and acts like his dad.
This little boy watches his daddy so carefully and intensely.
He watches every move, every task, every single one of his daddy’s passions, wanting to mimic him so perfectly.
He’s got his mommy in him too, but the more he grows, the more I see daddy.
I’m raising a daddy’s boy, and I couldn’t be happier.
This essay originally appeared on the author's Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MessyFootprints/
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