A love letter to Tristan, age 7

My darling Tristan,

Today, you turn seven years old. Uncle Sean calls this your “champagne birthday”: seven years old on March 7. By coincidence, you’ve invited seven guests to your party, and the weather is even forecasting a high of 7 degrees! Remind me to go buy a Super 7 ticket for you, okay?

Tristan, this has been the year that you and I became friends as well as mother and son. This is the year you learned the fun of the inside joke, and the year you showed us a peek into what the future may hold with three big boys in our house.

When I look back on the last year, the image I will remember most clearly is of you hunched over the kitchen table, markers and pencil crayons arrayed around your latest creation, be it book or drawing or comic. You are endlessly creative, my son, and you never fail to surprise me with your ideas and your ability. I’ve watched you turn a cereal box into a guitar and a packing crate into a rocket ship, with no prompting or suggestions from us. In fact, the problem now is what to do with your endless creations: before I can recycle that old tissue box it gets reinvented as a school bus for Webkinz. Endlessly charming, for sure, but we’re already a family that has clutter issues and now we’re swimming in random drawings and discarded art projects, too.

You are my adventurer, my athlete, my explorer. This summer, you astonished me by learning to jump off the diving board and cavort in the deep end of the pool long before I thought you’d be ready for it. You took skating lessons and went from barely able to stand to zooming around the rink with fearless abandon in just a few weeks. You love to climb, to leap, and to run. It’s nothing short of lovely, if not exhausting, to watch you move. And I’m constantly scolding you to stop using the furniture in your athletic endeavours!

But you are a scholar, as well. You read well beyond your Grade 1 level, and because you are a renaissance child, you also do well in math. You have a sweet crush on your French teacher, and your accent is better at seven years old than mine is after 30 years of lessons. You want to please everyone so badly that sometimes you become overly anxious about performance and results, and you get that entirely from me. I’m so sorry!

You have yet to “discover” girls, but the girls have definitely discovered you. While I’ve long since become accustomed to sorting the love notes and heart-covered drawings from your school bag, I was left in open-mouthed shock just a week or so ago as one brazen little girl dashed over to kiss you goodbye on the cheek as we left the school yard. I think you are still generally nonplussed by the attention you get from the girls, and I think you’d be just as happy if they stopped their constant demands of “who are you going to marry,” but trust me: you’ll love it one of these days.

You are a wonderful older brother to Simon and Lucas. Simon is both your best friend and, not surprisingly, your arch nemesis. I love to listen in as you provide sage and worldly advice to Simon on the rules of school; ironically, just a few weeks ago one such nugget exclaimed in horrified reaction was, “There is NO kissing at school!” You are unbelievably patient with Lucas, and you love to make him laugh. You are even responsible enough now that I can leave Lucas in your care for a few minutes and know that he will be safe and well entertained.

At seven, your favourite things include Pokémon, Webkinz, Fairly Odd Parents and SpongeBob SquarePants. You have been working your way through the Warriors series of books at bedtime with Daddy for weeks now, and you all seem enthralled by them. You also love to play the Wii, including Star Wars Lego and Big Brain Academy. We see all of these interests come out in your drawings and in your imaginative play with Simon, and it’s fascinating to watch.

This has been a fun and playful year with you, my sweet and handsome Tristan. Every single day with you is a joy, and I wish you the happiest of birthdays and a year brimming with love and adventure.

Author: DaniGirl

Canadian. storyteller, photographer, mom to 3. Professional dilettante. View all posts by DaniGirl