Dear Will,

I trim your nails nearly every week. Your discarded nail clippings are a notch carved in the wall, marking the passage of time. Their growth is light speed. If I neglect your nails for even one week, they're too long, packed with dirt and childhood, a vector for disease and a weapon in your rumbles with your brother.

Just like your nails' growth, your healing powers are impressive. We recently got to watch as the skin, which had been fully abraded from the surface of your knees, grew back within a week. First there were scab mountains with deep valleys, then small scab hills, then freshly pink skin, shiny and boasting about the miracles of the human body.

The passage of time does seem accelerated. Things are changing as you morph into a "big kid." School started this year, you were adjusting well.  And you adjusted well when school "ended," as the world fell apart around us these last two months.

We've reached the part of your birthday letter where I sing your praises; I identify the things that make you a bright light in our family. You are sweet and empathetic and funny. You are starting to push limits and are working on your lying (you're not quite good at it yet). You love to cook with me and you help "do the dishes" (make a mess with water). You're a pro on a scooter. You keep up with the big kids. And you get so offended when you don't get to talk or you get the wrong cup or your sandwich was cut incorrectly.

I adore you. I will continue to cut your nails as we add another notch in your life, marking the passage of time until you can someday manage your nails yourself.

Happy Birthday Will! You're four years old and the perfect little big kid!

Love,
Mama