Paloma,

A month ago you were forty four months old. Today you are forty five.

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This morning you asked what you were getting for Christmas. I told you it was a surprise.

You hate surprises.

For the rest of the day I have considered what to do. Tell you or not. It seems so strange to me to tell you what you're getting. Then how is it a surprise? Right? Do you see?

But then I've considered what I want as the gift-giver. I want to see you excited, thrilled, gracious, delighted. I want you to feel seen, considered, known.

To get what I want, I have to give you what you want. And you want to know.

So, tonight, or some time before the big day, I will tell you. I'll tell you every gift I gathered up for you this year and how they'll be in your stocking, waiting for you on Christmas Day. And then when that day comes, you will be ready to receive what I have to give. And if that metaphor didn't hit you over the head, then I give up.

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Happy Monthdays.

Love,
Mama