My son turns four today. He is my eldest child.
The promises that I made to myself regarding his rearing have far surpassed the promises I’ve made to him.
He doesn’t even know the things I’ve promised him, other than that chocolate milk I promised to give him if he was good in the grocery store.
Oh, my son, things I’ve promised myself to accomplish for you.
I promise to protect you but not to overdo it.
I promise to love you til the end of my days.
I promise to teach you all of the things that your father can’t, because he just doesn’t know how.
I promise to not let my mental illness get in the way of loving you or teaching you or appreciating your existence as my child.
I promise you a solid, stable life, come what may. No more moving around, as much as I can help it.
I promise you peace.
I loved you first, I’ll love you last.