Dear Ben,

Today you turn ten. Dude! Double digits! So tight yo.

OK, OK I’ll stop. I’m making myself sick not to mention the shade of red you must be turning.

This past year was a great one, for both of us. You continued to excel in school, sports and in height. Seriously, stop growing! Sometimes I do a double take when I haven’t seen you all day. “Who is that tall guy? Is that my kid?”

Silver Slugbug! No slug-backs!

I’m not going to do all the “I can’t believe my baby is ten!” because I can believe it. I have watched you grow into the truly amazing boy that you are. I will, however, say that time has flown. When you were just a little fuzzy headed chub who twirled his feet I couldn’t even imagine who you would be at ten.

And I never thought you would be as awesome as you are.

I surely never would have thought you would be this sweet; this concerned for others. You don’t like big birthday parties because you worry if everyone will have fun, who to invite, and what they would like to do.
You were recently torn between continuing with soccer or just sticking with baseball because again you worried about letting your soccer team down or thinking that you would let your, baseball loving, Grandpa down.

Red Slugbug! No slug-backs!

And I sit with you and try so hard to understand because I am not this way. Especially as a child. (You think I got the nickname Princess Mikkimoto because I was selfless and overly concerned for others??)  But not you my sweet boy. So I say “Forget about them. What about you? What do YOU want?” and still it’s too hard for you to answer.

You are not only sweet, you are smart. SO smart. I have given up trying to impress you with my knowledge. Instead, now you are amazed if I know the answer to something.  When I want to watch a program “On Demand” I don’t even try to figure it out. I just hand the remote to you and tell you what I want to watch.

Yellow Slugbug! No slug-backs!

This year for your birthday Grandma finally got her musical hooks in you and got you a guitar, with the commitment of a year of lessons.  (Yes, I had to throw that in. Hey you are a captive audience and now it’s in writing!)

She is out of her head happy that her very musically inclined Grandson is finally taking up an instrument (even if isn’t the piano) and will soon learn to read music. Never mind that this electric guitar and it’s AMP are in MY home.  But I too am thrilled to see you have yet another hobby that I know you’ll be great at.

One of the many things I love about you Ben, is how you aren’t just a “one thing” kind of guy. You never have been. You even loved all your stuffed animals equally. You do a lot but you do it all very well.

The other day as Matt…(sorry) DAD and I were taking you to your baseball game but dropping your guitar off at Grandma and Grandpa’s house first, you were walking out in full baseball uniform with the guitar on your back. It was the coolest image; one I won’t soon forget as it perfectly captured who you are.

Blue Slugbug! No slug-backs!

My present to you for this birthday was equally as cool. I got you a dad.

It often brings tears to my eyes when you talk about your “Dad” with a twinkle in your eye and a sense of ownership.

Your dad.
You’ve never had one of those before.

When I see the two of you at the computer screen laughing at the same stupid YouTube video, or throwing around the ball in the park it still catches my breath. There are truly no words. But who needs words when I can see how happy, calm and assured you are lately.

Green Slugbug! No slug-backs!

This age will have many milestones, but there is one in particular I will touch on here and then not again. My days of devoting a whole blog to one of our cute conversations or something silly you did are over. It seems right that at age ten you get to live your life out of this spotlight.  You have said more than once lately, “Don’t blog about this, Mom.” You no longer think it’s cool or cute and I respect your privacy. In fact, Ben, I respect you.

I know this isn’t your eighteenth birthday and that I still have at least eight more wonderful years with you under my roof, but for some reason ten feels big to me. So as you continue to grow and become more independent I just have one small favor.

Don’t forget about me and these arms that will always hold you, protect you and be there to catch you.

Always.

No questions asked.

Happy Birthday, baby!

Love,
Mom

p.s. if you were counting that was FIVE Slug-bugs in this letter!  Therefore I’m winning 5-0!