Lucky Seven

Dear Charlie,

Six was a tough year, let’s just say it. I won’t say it was terrible because it absolutely was not.

However, you were dealt a pretty raw deal this past year. Less than a month after turning 6, you found out I had breast cancer. Of all three kids, you took it the hardest, but we didn’t know that for quite a while because you kept it all inside.

Eddie asked questions and admitted when things were scary. Alice didn’t understand much beyond the doctors had to cut me and take out something bad and that the medicine made me tired and bald.

You quietly took all of it in and let it bubble under the surface.

Life just got hard, bud. Big feelings with no where to put them and no language to get them out lead to some pretty hard times. We thought starting school would help, but it got worse.

We made choices and sought answers and we are still in the middle of all that. And you have been a trooper. You have done the work that many adults won’t do. We are so very proud of you.

We have learned a LOT about you this year. Some things we already knew, but they grew and developed: you are whip smart, a math whiz, quick-witted, very literal, and extremely logical.

You have strong expectations of what is right and wrong along with when and how things should be done. And if someone does not meet these expectations, well, woe to them. Woe. To. Them.

You can problem solve and build things with various materials like no one else your age. In fact, when you are amped up and melting down, math problems or building things can calm you.

I will be the first to admit that I absolutely do not understand how your mind works. You are different than I am in almost every way possible. But that doesn’t mean I’m not fascinated and amused by you and your creativity!

School is hard this year, but not because you can’t do it. There are just things you do not want to do. Because you don’t really like to talk about it, we are not completely sure what triggers your dislikes so strongly, but we are all working on it.

The tooth fairy has visited often this year. You have been missing a front tooth for like ever now. And it only adds to your sweet charm. A sweet charm you seem to know you possess. One that wiggles you into the hearts of everyone that meets you.

You LOVE to laugh. Despite the roughness of the day, in the end, you just want to laugh at silly things. And no one can make you laugh that deep, chuckle laugh of yours harder than Eddie. You and Eddie have a deep connection. He absolutely do not understand you, but he loves you deeply. He sticks up for you and wants to help you as best as he can. Sometimes you let him. When he tickles you, you pee your pants every time. But neither of you care because you’re laughing so much!

Your sister on the other hand, drives you nuts. I try not to laugh, but she is also so very different than you are. For one, she talks nonstop. For another she wants to play with you and you absolutely do not want her to touch anything that is yours or that you are playing with because she will do it wrong. You have zero patience for her being littler than you. But the minute someone is being mean to her? Look out! Bird rage!

You love things that are soft. I mean, who doesn’t?! But you particularly love stuffed animals and soft blankets and your soft weighted blanket. You love to feel warm and secure. Again, who doesn’t, right? But you love these things more than a typical kid does. You like to be close. You like to cuddle. This has been true since you were a tiny infant you preferred the swaddle or the moby wrap.

You are my sunshine, Charlie Bird. This year, when I told you the story of your birth, you especially like the part when the anesthesiologist played Pearl Jam’s “Given to Fly” while they started cutting to get you out. You thought that was so funny that they played a song about flying and then we called you Charlie Bird.

We are still working to figure you out–to find out how you tick and how we can be the best parents for you. Just because you are different than your siblings, doesn’t mean you are even a little bit less. Not one bit.

You are something special, and I have a feeling that SEVEN is going to be a very good year for you–and us!

Let’s do this together, sweet boy.

I love you more than all the wishes in the universe,

Mom Mom

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About Katie

Just a small town girl...wait no. That is a Journey song. Katie Sluiter is a small town girl, but she is far from living in a lonely world. She is a middle school English teacher, writer, mother, and wife. Life has thrown her a fair share of challenges, but her belief is that writing through them makes her stronger.

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