A Valentine for the 13th

A's Symmetrical Tower, J's Drilling Machine
(Notice the Blue Wall in the Background:
Kitchen Reno Update coming soon!)
Dear Daughter,

You are an excellent communicator. You pick up expressions, attach them to neurons, and retrieve them for future conversations. You have an aptitude for languages and understand your Mother's tongue quite well. You speak with your hands for emphasis. You enjoy rhymes and patterns.

You are a leader. You create games and recruit others to join. You have the ability to persuade others to greater heights and more exciting adventures. You rarely fear standing up in front of people.

You are an encourager. You enthusiastically exclaim "Good job!" when your brother accomplishes something significant. You tell me that I'm beautiful. You thank me for "insignificant" things. "Mommy, you are my best Mommy because you let me watch television sometimes."

You are honest. When I cry "woe is me", you remind me of the truth and focus me towards hope. When I shed tears over selling the Exersaucer, you remarked calmly, "That's okay Mommy. I don't need it anymore."

You make me laugh with your explanations. When I asked you what you learned in your Awana Club, you answered, "There was this man who had to take his shoes off because the ground was rocky." (Poor Moses.)

I love you, my Daughter.

Dear Son,

You are imaginative and creative. You have the ability to see the letter "J" in a slice of red pepper, a crab in a fork full of spaghetti, and a crescent moon in a finger nail clipping. You can manipulate Duplo to make a camera, an elephant, or a crazy machine that makes loud noises.

You are affectionate. When hurt, you cry, "Hug me." When sick, you want a cuddle, or two, or three. And you give kisses away like candy at a parade.

You are helpful. You insist on placing a few cups or plates into the dishwasher. You pile laundry into the washer. You want to be bigger so you can clean the washroom!

You are particular. You arrange things, close things, and even push the chairs into place around the table. You don't like nicknames and prefer your first name to any other name. "I'm not sweetie, I'm J."

You make me laugh with your boyish antics. One day, out of the blue, you lowered your voice to sound monster-esk and you "threatened" me with a mischievous twinkle in your eye: "Mommy, I'm gonna put you in the garbage!"

I love you, my Son.

Dear God,

Thank you for my children.

Happy Valentine's Day Eve!

Love,
Rain

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