He's Going To Marry a Duggar

Dear Ethan,

As I write this, I am sitting on the porch swing in the dappled March sunshine at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. You delight in visiting their home, where you can run around the huge front lawn, play in their woods, and watch the herds of deer meander through the grass.

I love that I can share this experience with you, and watching you play in the yard where thirty (short?) years ago, I ran around the same grassy field with my best friend as we pretended to be Grand Prix show jumping horses, galloping and flinging our little bodies over stick jumps until we were too tired to stand up, so we would flop down on the earth to watch the sky overhead, and talk about nothing, and everything.

You never tire of hearing stories about Karen, my best friend in elementary school ... and for life, and all the fun we had together, and occasionally the trouble we got into. Even though I sanitize some of the stories for your tender ears, you do enjoy any tale that ends with your Mom getting a good Puritan-type grounding.

Right now, you are digging divits in the yard with grandpa’s golf clubs, because he is in Florida on vacation. If he were here, his Pings would be off-limits to your eager little hands. Greg Norman better be looking over his shoulder (I'd say Tiger Woods, but the thought of associating my sweet little munchkin with him is not working for him) because, to my shock, you just lofted a serious line drive over the trees and into the woods and almost into a car driving down the street, one full acre away.

You jump up and down with excitement, “MOMMY! MOMMY! DID YOU SEE THAT!?” I did, and clap! Both because of your gold-star hit, and because you missed hitting the car with the ball, which probably would have resulted in a lawsuit for $4 million dollars.

Earlier today, we had an unsuccessful attempt to launch a kite shaped like a gecko with a twenty-foot purple tail, but the wind just did not want to cooperate with our flight plans. We still managed to have some laughs getting wrapped up in the kite strings and racing around the yard tossing the limp fabric that refused to take flight. You giggled after reading the package instructions warning us not to fly the kite near airports. “Who would do that?” you asked.

We decided it would be a bad idea to get your kite stuck in an airplane, unless, perhaps, that plane was heading down to Florida, and then we might want to hitch along for the ride. You say that Disney World is your favorite place on earth; we visited last April and you rode all the big roller coasters, some more than once. Plus, Uncle Scott -- your cool uncle/my silly little brother -- lives in Florida, and who doesn’t love visiting a person that turns you upside down and tickles you until you almost throw up?

In one day, you will be eight years old. EIGHT! As you will understand when you someday become a parent, at every birthday, I lament that it seems like just yesterday we brought you home from the hospital, wrapped in a fuzzy white bear snowsuit that was three sizes too big and the soft blue blanket we tucked into bed with you for years after your homecoming.

You arrived just a week after the biggest snowstorm Maryland had seen in two decades. I was worried you’d decide that being born in a blizzard was a good idea. But you hung out and decided to wait until the three feet of snow had melted, which was fortunate, because otherwise you likely would have been delivered in our upstairs bathtub.

At the hospital, we flipped a coin to decide on your name. You were two quarter tosses away from going through life as Braden or Carter. As you know, March 5th is my favorite uncle’s birthday, so Charles it was for the middle name, that was not open for debate. Of course, now, you are ETHAN CHARLES, and I could not imagine calling you anything else, except for the cat's name, which I will sometimes yell when trying to figure out who is causing the mischief/noise/clawing the furniture.

You were a happy baby, and a talkative toddler, who wanted to communicate with the world around you. Your first word was “DER!” which quickly became “DERDERDERDERDER!” I have no idea where that came from, or why you called things that, but that was your title for everything from the cat, to ice cream, to grandpa, to your favorite playmate. You’d point and shout to make sure everyone knew what you wanted to tell them.

“DERDERDER!” (point to cat).

“DERDERDER!” (point to car).

“DERDERDER!” (point to self).

“DERDERDER!” (point to me).

No, I’d say patiently. “Mom - eeee.” I’d point to myself, “Mom - EEE.”

You’d move on … “DER!” (point to Daddy).

You’d learn eventually. When you did begin speaking in complete sentences, we had a lot to talk about. One of your first statements at the age of two was, “Baby geese are called goslings.” Hmm, OK, twenty-four months old and already smarter than me? I knew I'd have my hands full.

I love looking back on where you are at a certain point in your life, so you allowed me to interrupt your golf driving range practice to ask a few questions about your plans for the future. It seems you have a big life ahead of you … these are questions I asked you while swinging on the porch swing together…

What do you want to be when you grow up? Professional football player.

How old will be when you get married? One hundred years old.

Who will you marry? I have NO idea.

How many kids will you have? Ninety-four, and the girls will be named Frank and the boys will be named Bob.

Where will you live? Texas, or Tennessee. Because I like “T” names.

What will your wife do? Will she have a job? YES! Most football players “wifes” are team doctor, so probably the team doctor.

Will you have any pets? Five cats, four dogs, twenty fish, sixty rabbits, and two gophers, named Bob and Joe.

What will you do on weekends for fun? Play with Bob and Joe, the gophers, not the kids.

If you could celebrate your birthday in any way this year, what would you want to do? Go to the Harlem Globetrotters.

(GUESS WHAT, ETHAN? WE GOT TICKETS FOR TOMORROW!)

What is your favorite memory from being a kid? Probably right this second!

Ethan, your future is bright. You are a wonderful son, grandchild, friend, athlete, student, and most of all, person. I love you to the moon and back and wish you a very happy day before your eighth birthday.
　
Love Always,
Mommy