to carter, on the occasion of your third

"Children are not a distraction from more important work. They are the most important work."
-- C.S. Lewis

Dear Carter Christopher,

Goodness gracious, you are a lovable mess of a three-year-old.

You started school this year. Your vocabulary exploded there, and your teachers marveled at your affinity for the alphabet and counting. You appear to have a very advanced memory, too, which I imagine means you'll beat all your friends down in future games of Memory.

One morning when your mom asked you what you'd do at school that day, you replied, Go to the Thinking Pond. The Thinking Pond is your classroom time-out, so there's that happening at school, too. Fingers are crossed you don't fall totally in love with that special place of serenity and reflection.

A favorite highlight at school was your debut in the performing arts. At your Thanksgiving school program, you were vastly underwhelmed and unimpressed with the construction paper headdresses, singing, and general Pilgrim shenanigans.

I did not stop laughing at that picture for days.

You've had me in stitches over commentary like It's wonderful! or That's so cool! about who-knows-what, and over exuberant renditions of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." You live so big in those moments.

Speaking of stitches, you barely avoided real ones when you split your eyebrow on the concrete running full throttle down the driveway. Your dad and uncle have some doozy scars from their days as wild boys; I imagine this will be the first of many for you, too.

Here's what your mom and dad have to say in reflecting on your past year:

I'd describe Carter's personality with these few words:
mom: All boy, or as they say in North Carolina, "wide open."
dad: Happy with a side of stubborn.

Carter is happiest when he ...
mom: Is outside playing, climbing, or exploring.
dad: Is able to run around outside, or in a big open space.

Carter is not-so-charming when he (all together now!) ...
mom: Doesn't get his way.
dad: Doesn't get his way.

My proudest moment as a parent this past year was ...
mom: When he started to speak in complete sentences, some of which included "please" and "thank you" without prompting.
dad: When he said his prayer on his own before bed one night.

Carter's best qualities are ...
mom: He is friendly. He is kind and gentle with small kids and pets. He also still likes to sit on his mom's lap (thank goodness).
dad: He is very personable.

I laugh out loud when Carter ...
mom: Laughs. His laugh is contagious!
dad: Sings in the car, and when he tells everyone individually "goodbye!" at school.

After his third birthday, I'm most looking forward to ...
mom: Seeing what he becomes interested in during the next year.
dad: Being completely potty trained, and having a conversation with him.

Mercy, it's been a fun year. But my instinct is that it's been the year, too, where the proverbial rubber met the road.

Your parents are watching you grow rapidly into who you were made to be, celebrating your major milestones and proudest moments (first haircut without tears!), but keenly aware of your inherent imperfections (you can throw a mean tantrum) and undeserved brokenness.

They're learning quickly that they can't protect you from everything bad -- from falls, or stitches, or other kids, or the thinking pond -- and it's in those moments that they're reminded that this world is not as it should be.

It is unfair, and difficult, and sometimes straight-up scary. That is a debilitating realization for some, but not your mom and dad.

Because then your laugh makes them giggle, or you climb up in your mom's lap, or you say something funny, and they are motivated to keep pressing on, fighting hard on your behalf, knowing deep in their bones that this work of raising you is the most important, and most rewarding, they'll ever do.

My goodness, you are loved.

I hope that you will always know the love of your mom and dad, whether they are doting or disciplining, and I pray fervently that you will one day come to accept the love of the heavenly Father who loves you even more fully and purely. Especially your imperfections.

You're one-of-a-kind, Little Man. Never forget that.

Happy Third. We are (still) wild for you.