I hope you're always this optimistic. I hope you keep your ambition, your inner drive to try new things, to reach for the next accomplishment. I hope you always take the disappointments in stride. "Maybe next time," you say. And there's always a next time. And usually, it does work out better next time. You have failures. You have successes. And you just keep moving forward.
I don't know how you acquired this wonderful personality trait. I'm pretty sure your father and I had nothing to do with it. But it's a gift. I pray that you're always blessed with this gift. I pray that I never do anything inadvertently to crush your optimism. I pray that I can always help provide a successful next time. Or at least a step closer to success. And the encouragement to try it again with hopeful anticipation of success.
What prompted this letter to you my earnest little chattering ray of sunshine?
You decided last night that you'd try sleeping in undies instead of a pull-up. You're only 3 and a half. I don't expect you to stay dry. You really tried. You were really hopeful. But you woke up in a wet bed. You didn't seem too upset. You decided not to try again tonight. You didn't seem upset about that either. I hope I gave you the right amount of encouragement and support for your decision-making.
I watch you get braver and braver at the playground. You climb higher and higher. You let me move further and further away. You ask me not to be so helpful. And you succeed. You conquer the nervousness and fear you experience initially. And master ever larger and larger pieces of playground equipment.
I'm so proud of you. Not because of your successes, but because of your trying.
Your inspired Mama