Bon Jovi, Aerosmith, U2 – they’re all rockstars in their own right. But none are greater, cuter or have more adoring fans (at least at our house) than Rockstar Luke. Mr. Heartbreaker himself turns THREE today.
*mom shakes head in disbelief*
We went from tiny…
And, as I sit at the computer and stare at those sweet lashes, it makes every late night, every scream, every therapy session, every surgery and every struggle fade away. With each passing year, my joy in the journey becomes greater.
Where do I even begin buddy? Your start to life was a bit on the rough side. You, single-handedly, have increased my chances of getting into heaven with all that knee time. This past year you have made phenomenal – yes PHEnomenal – progress.
You regularly say two-word sentences and occassionally throw in a three- or four-word one in and surprise us all.
Your absolute favorite thing, in the world, is “Cars.” You know every character’s name and I’m betting every line in the “Cars 2” movie. You go bananas everytime you see anything related to the movie. Looks like you enjoy a little drama and life in the fast lane. Don’t get any ideas buddy. Ain’t no way I’m letting you on a racetrack.
Those little legs you have can run fast. As in, I cannot keep up with you. And to think we worried about you ever walking. There was warranted worry, but you have made up for lost time. I like to call it “John Paul therapy.” You should rent your brother out. He’s the reason you’re so tough.
The eating front is better (I’m hopeful there will be no gagging at your party this weekend). We still have rows to hoe, but it’s definitely better. Someday I’m taking you to Mighty Fine for a burger. Please don’t be embarrassed while I cry in the corner, okay?
You have two surgeries on the horizon, one for your brain and the other for your heart. I’m still holding true to one of my hopes for you: that you never have a surgery that you remember.
But the thing I love most about you, the thing that draws people in like biscuits to gravy, is your sweet demeanor. You are completely disarming and totally charming. You giggle and laugh and bat your eyelashes. You say sweet, sweet, sweet and funny things like “shu wee momma” and “night momma.” You even pat my face each afternoon before nap and say, “miss you.” Kid, you had my heart at hello.
You are a stinker, but you mostly get away with 99% of your shenanigans. Nobody seems to mind around here, though.
Luke, there is nothing more to say than these two words you uttered this spring: Wuv you.
To the moon and back. To. The. Moon. And. Back.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUKE!