I watch as my spirited son stands beside his 3-year-old brother, who is melting down over the bagel I just handed him. I was supposed to cut it into quarters, not halves (how could I have overlooked that?!). As I try to soothe him, encouraging him to take a deep breath and express his feelings — telling him that if he could just pause his screaming, we could discuss how to remedy the situation — my older son stands there, composed, glancing at the floor with a slight smile.
Just a few months ago, he would have jumped in, covering his ears and telling his brother to “stooooop!” Or if he was feeling particularly irritable, he might have snapped at him to “shut up!” which would only escalate the situation, leaving me with two children to manage. Instead, he remains calm, and when I start to explain to my younger son that cutting the bagel into quarters is a feasible solution if he can just stop thrashing, my older son chimes in, “Yeah, Mommy can fix it,” in the most even-tempered, supportive, and mature tone.
I feel the urge to cry. It seems like just yesterday that he was the one sprawled out on the floor, screaming about how I’d cut his toast, or having a meltdown over the color of the sippy cup I gave him. His tantrums were intense; he would scream until little splotches appeared under his eyes or on his cheeks. He would kick and argue, rationalizing his way through the chaos with elaborate explanations that were almost convincing. He was my strong-willed son; my spirited one, who never accepted “no” for an answer.
Traditional discipline methods were ineffective with him. Distractions didn’t work; he was too fixated on the initial upset. Moving him to another room for a “time out” or “cool down” just intensified his distress. Sometimes, his screams were so loud I feared neighbors would call the authorities. I read countless books and sought advice, but ultimately, I went with my instincts. I sat with him, tried to stay calm, and waited it out. Eventually, he would collapse in my lap, sobbing, and we could communicate. Over the years, we got better at navigating those meltdowns together. It took much trial and error, and often left me feeling lost, but we found our way.
This summer, he turned 9 1/2. Not quite a child, not quite a teenager. He has grown tall; his face has matured. He seems sturdier and stronger. His strong-willed nature is still evident, but he has learned to manage it. He can take that extra breath I’ve been suggesting for years, the one that prevents him from losing control when things don’t go his way.
I want him to know that I see how much he’s evolved, both inside and out. I recognize the remarkable person he is becoming. I see him making mature choices. He understands that acting grown-up is truly powerful and cool. He embraces it, just as he has always embraced everything about himself.
People often said having a strong-willed child was a blessing, predicting he would grow into a leader, a confident individual, a visionary. He is bright in so many ways — wise beyond his years, a genuine thinker. Yet, I struggled to believe things would ever get easier, that all the struggles would transform into something brilliant and commendable. But I clung to the hope that it would. During the toughest times, it was the only thing I had to hold onto.
My goodness, I believe we’re almost there. I think we’ve made it, he and I. But I credit him for this progress. It wasn’t his fault his emotions ran so deep; that’s just who he was. He was someone who felt everything intensely, with dazzling, intricate thoughts about the world — from how justice should function to our plans for the day ahead. Yet, he was confined in a small body, and those emotions were overwhelming for him to navigate.
Dear son, I apologize for the moments I lost my cool with you, and for the times I still do. I also apologize in advance for when I inevitably lose my temper during your teenage years. Those times will arrive faster than we anticipate, and it will present a whole new set of challenges for us to tackle together.
But I have faith we’ll get through it. We have the experience and the trust we’ve built over the years — a trust forged in blood, sweat, and tears, one that I wouldn’t trade for anything. Most importantly, I want you to know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, I see you here, now. I am immensely proud of the person you are becoming and the man you will eventually be. I can see that future man in your eyes, in the way you offer a reassuring smile as your brother has his tantrum, resting a steady hand on his shoulder and telling him it will be okay.
The truth is, I have loved you through every stage of your life. Even when each day felt like a marathon, I often found myself marveling at the fiery spirit in your heart. You only get better with time; that fire has transformed into pure light, guiding you to live a vibrant, extraordinary life. Thank you for instilling hope in me, for teaching me that all I needed to do was my best, trust my instincts, and love you unconditionally. And I do; I love you so much.
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In summary, this heartfelt letter reflects on the growth of a strong-willed son and the journey of understanding and patience shared between mother and child. It emphasizes the importance of love, trust, and the belief in each other’s potential as they navigate through life’s challenges together.