An Open Letter to My Toddler Son
Megan Breedlove 
Dear Timmy,
For just a moment, I can sit down, take a breather, and write you this letter. I have just put you down for a nap, and you’re likely to stay there for at least a few minutes, until you decide you’re done with being in your room by yourself, and you toddle out to find me, slowly, as if hoping that the calmness and subtlety of your re-entry into the land of the awake will somehow convince me to take you into my arms and cuddle you instead of sending you back to bed.
In fact, right now, I can hear you playing in your room instead of sleeping. Though I can’t make out your words, I hear you talking happily to yourself. So I know my time to write to you is limited. But before you come out here and seek my attention, there are some things I want to say to you.
The first is that I really do try to be the best mommy I can be. I know I get frustrated with you sometimes, and sometimes I refuse to pick you up or let you climb into my lap when all you want is Mommy’s attention. I make it a point to play with you when I can, and to do things with you, to make you laugh, and to spend time with you. It’s just that sometimes, my energy level doesn’t even come close to matching yours. I get tired. I get sick. I get drained, physically and emotionally. I do my best to set those things aside when you come to me, wanting nothing more than my attention and the security of my love for you. But sometimes, I just can’t. And I hope what you learn from this is not that I don’t want to do things for you, but that sometimes, parents need a break, too. I also hope that maybe someday, when your little boy (my grandson) comes to you, needing your attention, and you feel like you just can’t, you’ll know that it’s okay. That being weary doesn’t make you a bad parent. You’re only human.
I also want you to know how much joy and delight you bring to my life because of who you are. Words don’t adequately express this, but I’m going to try. When you laugh your fantastic, all-out belly laugh that makes your eyes squeeze shut and tears run down your cheeks, I can’t help but laugh, too. Ditto for when you say something that’s absolutely hilarious, and you don’t even realize how funny you are. When you delight in a new experience or achievement, or get really excited because of something as simple as the fact that you saw a dog in the bed of the pickup in the lane next to us, or shriek with happiness, I rejoice, too. And when you cuddle up with me before bedtime, as we sit in your recliner and I sing songs to you and read your “favorite books”…well, those times are precious beyond words, and I look forward to them every day because I love just being with you.
Yes, there are times when I’m weary or frustrated in dealing with you. Right now, for example, you’ve gotten up from your “nap” and are systematically bringing me every box and can from the pantry, asking, “What’s this?” Sometimes, you’re obstinate. Other times, you’re slow to obey. Fairly regularly, you make huge messes that I don’t discover until later, because you are sneaky and know better than to do something like that when I might be watching. You require large amounts of energy because you’re so smart and active and into everything. And, well, because you’re two. Sometimes, I just want a break. Sometimes, I just want to cry.
But even on the hard days, even on the worst days, when the tears flow for both of us and we’re both tired, frustrated, and angry, I want you to know this: I love you more than words can ever hope to express. I love you from the depths of my soul. There is no one who means more to me on this earth than your father, your siblings, and you. Even when I’m in tears because of the kind of day or week, or month I’ve had, I would never, not for a moment trade the incredible joy of getting to know you and love you and be your mother for anything in the world. I would give my life for you—not only in the small, everyday moments, but to the extent of giving up my physical life if, by doing so, I could save yours. And I wouldn’t hesitate.
But here’s what I want you to know more than anything else in this world: my love for you, as immense as it is, is nothing compared to the love that God has for you. I may have borne you in my body for nine months before giving birth to you, but God created you. Half of your DNA comes from me, but you are His creation. I’ve told you that I’d give my life for you, and I would. But He already did.
God loved you, Timmy, so much that He allowed His Son Jesus to be put to death so that you didn’t have to be (John 3:16). Personally, I can’t imagine giving up you or Kenny on behalf of anyone else. I wouldn’t give up my beloved son. But that’s what God did when He gave Jesus. And not only has He allowed Jesus to take your punishment for you, but He’s also allowed Jesus’ perfection to stand in for your track record of sins (Rom. 5:17). Why? So you and God can love each other intimately and forever.
What an incredible gift! You see, I can’t always be with you, but He’ll live inside your heart, if you want Him to (Rom. 8:11). When you’re sad, I’ll comfort you the best I can, but He will comfort you with a peace beyond all human understanding (Phil. 4:7). I will sometimes fail you though I’ll try with all my might not to, but He never will (Psalm 136). I’ll give you all the material blessings I can, but they’re really from Him anyway (James 1:17). I’ll love you with every breath I take until the day I die, and then I’ll love you from heaven, but God’s loved you since before the foundation of the world (Eph. 1:4) and will love you for all eternity.
My greatest prayer for you, Timmy, is that God will help you really know how much He loves you, and that you’ll love Him back. If somehow He can use my love for you to give you a glimpse of what His perfect love is really like, I pray He’ll do that. Because I love you deeply and beyond words.
Tonight, we’ll have our time together in your room. We’ll snuggle up in your recliner, with the lights off and the light from the hallway seeping in just enough for me to read your books. After we read, I’ll sing to you. “Are you ready for night-night?” I’ll ask. And you’ll say, as you always do, “I just want to sit here for a minute.” I’ll cuddle you even closer, and you’ll put my head down on your shoulder and snuggle in. I’ll pray you’ll feel the love I can’t adequately express flowing from my heart to yours.
And because of you, my heart will be full. I pray that yours will be full, as well.
I love you, precious son.
Love,
Mommy
I used to think (before I had children) that disciplining them would be a piece of cake. I figured that they would commit Infraction A, I would apply Discipline Technique B, and I would get Successful Resolution C. My kids would know that I meant business, and they would make the wise decision to stop doing “A”. For the more stubborn issues, where for some unknown reason they didn’t immediately stop doing “A”, I might have to apply “B” two or three more times—but surely, not more than that—and then the problem would be resolved (“C”). For good.
In the famous passage about putting on spiritual armor instead of merely physical armor, Scripture tells us that we are to don this spiritual armor because the devil is scheming against us. It then goes on to say, “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Eph. 6:12).