t h e . r i d i c u l o u s . p a n d a

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little boy. not so little any more. the recurring theme. something we hear each other say even more times than you request BJ Thomas's "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head" is that you're so big... how'd you get so big? used to be a sweet boy. you're still sweet, just so big...
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and big is nothing. big can't compare to pure kinetic power. straight up energy made physical. this month you left the ground. 21 months of "jumping" to tip toes and all of a sudden you're flying. put you on a trampoline, mama and papa's bed or an air mattress and you're downright gymnastic. oh right, and the running. when did you figure out running? i actually remember when you figured out fast. fast was a father and two teenage sons jogging through the redwoods. you figured out fast 2,259 miles away from home. you took off running "FAST!" right after them and have barely stopped since.
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and as we get closer to just saying you're two years old and not 22 months, or almost two or 88 weeks, the many faces of Silas Lee have started asserting themselves almost as much as you have. and you're a character, whether it's wishing our guests a fond farewell hours before they are scheduled to leave; or leaning over, lightly touching their arm [after being right next to them for the last half hour] and sweetly saying "hi!"; or crying the light fantastic when one cookie just isn't enough — you are yourself and you are ridiculous and in the end you are really just mama's sweet boy.
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actually, strike that. you are everybody's sweet boy. this past month, you've visited and been visited by more family and friends than most people see in a year. you started it in the Humboldt nation with Anthony, Rie and Momo and finished it in McHenry with just about everybody. In between there were visits from amma, the wilk-ruppert family, and did i mention that you got to see just about every Platz in existence including the Blaises and Tarters [freshly returned from China]. Not to mention tita, titi & emily, georgia, forrest, olivia and their parents, brad and professor dressler.
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and all i can say is thank you. i've been reading a lot of books lately that deal with some serious, negative situations – real bad stuff, and a lot of it involves family. and they all kick in what amma calls that "low grade state of constant terror" that you might not always be happy. that you might not always feel totally loved and appreciated. i know i can't control every situation. and i know that there will be times when you are sad and angry — and that knowledge breaks my heart every time i think about it. but all those feelings pale in comparison to the absolute joy i feel when you run to me. when you hug me and every time you say "papa" it makes it all okay. i know you know i love you. i know you don't doubt it for a second and that keeps me in a high grade state of euphoria. you are my monkey. my stinky pete. my little boy. my baby. i love you Silas Lee.
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