Gorgeous little boys,
You are five years old!
What a year it has been for you. This time last year, your baby sister was a week overdue. Mummy Kirsty coordinated most of the birthday whilst I napped on the sofa, and then I took you horse riding. It was your first time on a horse and you seemed ever so small and uncertain, but you talked your leaders’ ears off the entire time and you told me that you’d had fun.
In my birthday letter to you when you turned four, I told you that I wanted to freeze you at that age forever, that you were independent, conversant, witty and sweet. Well, guess what – you are still all of these things, and even more so.
This year, you have had so many adventures. You welcomed a little sister and after a moment or two of surprised disappointment from Balthazar, who had requested a girl, you both fell deeply in love and have been wonderful, protective big brothers ever since. Balthazar, you like to sing to her; you know all of her favourite songs and she claps along, hanging from your every word. Lysander, we call you ‘Mummy Sasha’ because ever since your sister arrived in the world, her biggest smiles and her loudest laughter has always been for you. She would follow you to the end of the world and back if you only walked there, tottering along behind on her unsteady feet, waiting for you to pick her up and carry her – she loves to be held by you, to be lugged like a sack of potatoes from room to room.
This year you came house-hunting with me at the coast; you splashed through waves and familiarised yourselves with the local parks and you told us that yes, you would indeed like to live here. We packed up your whole lives and moved you to a new town and, brave little boys, you never hesitated once in putting down new roots. You started school and made new friends: a little girl who laughingly calls you ‘silly boys’, a wild-haired boy who made you birthday cards with pink on, and glitter, another boy who has autism – you are envious that he may bring his tablet to school, and you are protective of him, you always offer him a place in your games. We think that you are wonderful.
This year you learnt to count to one hundred, to add and to subtract. You learnt to put together short words, you shared with me the wonder of how the whole meaning of a word changes when you substitute just one letter. You learnt to dress yourself; oh, Balthazar, I could have died when you politely announced that you were having trouble putting on your ‘f-ing trousers’. You used the proper word as well! You are the funniest little boys and you make us laugh so much.
Every year you become an even better version of yourselves and I can’t wait to see what the sixth year of your lives will bring. Thank you for being you. I love you so much.