I wrote this in 1975 after spending a day with my son who at the time was two years old, going on three. I sent it to him today as he is the stay at home father of Ruby Nicole who is two going on three.

I had come into the house from an hour or two spent in the yard exploring nature’s wonders and
playing in the sandbox. I put him down for a nap and sat down to my typewriter and wrote.

I want to thank you, Nathaniel, for keeping me in touch with the intuitive.

What you know at two, I must learn again. Is this wisdom?

I must learn the love and fascination of simple things: moons, bugs and love.

I thank you for teaching me that the answer to “I love you” is “I know it.”

I thank you for forgiving my hassles and mistakes, listening to my home-made lullabies, and being someone fun and rewarding to be with.

I thank you for the instantaneous joy of lizards, butterflies and creek water that ripples over our bare feet, and the pleasure of wading in puddles after the rain.

I thank you for proving that a penny is still a magic coin that buys bubble gum from the machine and shouts of “I got a blue one,” or yellow or green. A penny still fits in your shoe and gives a bounce to your step with thoughts of the delights it will buy.

A penny makes the red flag in the parking meter disappear. A penny is a power that spins and rolls and sometimes disappears down cracks producing laughter, sighs, and tears.

You teach me that tears are free, self-created floods that release the pressure behind the dam and allow the sunny smiles that follow close behind to appear again.

You make me happy that I am still here to see you turn three. You teach me simplicity while you daily learn complicated things.

You make me realize that all your intuitive truths will be severely tested before you turn them into wisdom and that maybe this will never have a chance to occur.

But today, I thank you most of all for just being you, almost three, and at this moment, here with me.

Love you, Mom

By Ruth Scott

Labels: Ruth Scott

Stumble This Post