Dear Grant, As we counted down the days to your birth, I told your mom I couldn’t wait until you turned three years old. I remember that time with your brothers as truly special, a period where their growth was remarkable, their awareness of life expansive and their interplay with others great fun.

I assumed much would be the same with you. And I was correct.

While every year of your short life has been both unique and memorable, full of personal and family milestones, the past 12 months have been nothing short of magical.

No longer are you a baby or even a toddler. You’ve become a little man, a young fellow whose smile lights a room, whose spontaneous gestures and sentences erase the fatigue and complexity of a difficult day, whose love and zest for life prompts us to constantly reevaluate the really important things and priorities of a busy world.

That a single little blond-headed, happy boy can make such a difference, have such an influence and offer such unconditional love is a miracle we enjoy each day. You are a blessing in our lives. We know that. You make us whole. And for that we are grateful.

We are especially pleased to see your personality develop, to feel your sharing spirit, to know you, even at this early juncture of your journey, seem to get much joy out of giving to others and that significant doses of empathy and compassion truly exist.

Our hope is those traits shadow your life forever.

That your initial shyness changes quickly to animated confidence pleases us. So do the times you mimic your dad by placing your hands on your hips as you discuss serious conversation topics or when you launch into your grown-up voice, cocking your head, squinting your eyes or gesturing with your hands for emphasis in telling a story as only you can deliver.

At times, your jabbering is non-stop. You remain curious and inquisitive, always probing for understanding and answers. Your deep belly laugh comes quickly and your cries of “get me safe, mommy” when tickling becomes intense regularly amuse us. You are active, energized, healthy and involved. Little seems to escape you and the process of spelling words has become commonplace for us because of that.

Whether or not you’ve decided to be a musician or a chef remains uncertain, but there are strong hints of interest and talent in each area.

Only Oliver, your patient wirehaired Dachshund buddy, is bothered by your enthusiastic singing or your persistent keyboard and saxophone playing, but even he seems to understand a boy who reaches for any available microphone or who stands in a chair to direct the radio is serious about his music.

You’ve become quite a helper in the kitchen, too, assisting mom peel and mash bananas for banana nut bread, sift flour, stir oatmeal for oatmeal raisin cookies or handle much of the preparation for bean soup. You’re wise enough now to ask if a bowl contains raw eggs before sneaking that first taste and your imaginary meals come from a menu that any restaurant would envy.

That same imagination has recently allowed the ever-changing Joe, your imaginary friend, to enter our lives. You say he looks like my friend Richard from Oklahoma. Today, he is married with two kids. Tomorrow, he may have six dogs or six cats, but he’s a good man and has become an integral part of your life, sharing many events and activities important to you.

Ashleigh, your best friend, is anything but imaginary. A younger woman, mere mention of her name brightens your face and quickens your pace. You would go anywhere or do anything with her. And there is nothing more heart-warming than the hugs and love you genuinely share.

You have deep feelings about school as well, but who wouldn’t like being a Toby Turtle at Sonshine Preschool? Teachers there are helping you grow and have filled your life with songs, finger plays, crafts, coloring, painting and all sorts of other activities. Our chests swelled with pride, too, the day you brought home a certificate and proudly announced it was for reciting the pledge of allegiance in your classroom.

Learning is important to you. We know that. And, frankly, I envy your ability to maneuver the mouse, to drag, drop and double-click on the Noggin computer web site you like so well.

You remain committed to books like Appletree Farm and the Disney Story Book. Your TV favorites continue to be Sesame Street, Little Bear on Noggin, Veggie Tales and an occasional football game or golf tournament with your dad. Each evening ends with the Rhyme Bible Story Book.

Your fascination with sports is growing. Hot dogs and trombones are the highlight of Cullman High football games and while you haven’t been to an Alabama game yet, you seem to have grasped the almost religious seriousness of the sport. All your prayers, in tribute to your family’s respective alma maters, start with “Jesus, Amen,” but end with “Roll Tide, Hotty Toddy and Go Dawgs.”

Over the year, you saw your first movie in a theater, flew to California on your first plane trip and marched down to the front of our church for the children’s minute.

You still like working with mom at the church, jet baths, talking on the phone with your brothers, visiting the newspaper, sharing a sucker with Roger at the pharmacy and spending time with Ms. Alison, but your best adventures are trips to grandmom and granddad’s house and overnight stays at Grandmamma White’s.

I could easily go on for pages, Grant, but I won’t.

Today is Christmas Day. While you have delighted in the process of wrapping packages and staring intently at our prettiest tree ever, you know about baby Jesus and the miracle we celebrate together.

As we enjoy this special time, know that we love you, that we cherish the sounds of happiness you bring to our home and the opportunity we have to build anew memories that will grow more fondly with each passing day.

Much love,

Dad



‰ Ed Darling is the publisher of The Cullman Times. His column appears on Sundays.