Thursday, January 21, 2010

January 21, 2010 Letter

Dear Aaron,

I want to tell you a story about a precious little boy. Why yes, that would be you. I want to tell you a little bit about you.

When you first came to live with us, daddy was still off on summer vacation but not for too much longer, so we struggled with finding you a daycare. One that would take care of you, and love you and teach you. We thought we had found the perfect place. It was near our house, and we knew the person who managed it. You seemed to do okay for a while, but then the “teachers” there said you were having bad dreams at naptime. There was a mean kid there that bit you and left a scar. I cried a lot when that happened. You didn’t seem to be thriving with the two year olds, so we asked them to move you up and into the three year old class.

That seemed to work for a while, but then they told us you were having horrible tantrums, and more bad dreams. Your attitude at home got worse, too. You didn’t want to do anything, except watch TV, and that wasn’t how we wanted you to grow up. We tried everything to make it better for you. Different bed times, bribing you with “candy” (actually it was Flintstones Gummy Vitamins), begging, pleading and crying. Nothing seemed to work. Then a week before Christmas, they said we couldn’t bring you back. Fortunately, daddy and I were off for the holiday and were able to be with you.

I can honestly say, I’ve never even heard of a two year old getting kicked out of daycare. I was shocked and angry. Sadly, I was angry with you, as well as them. I wondered what I was doing wrong. I knew you could be a good boy, but you refused to be good at daycare.

Things settled down and we celebrated Christmas with Grammy and Grampa and Mimi and Pop. You made out like a bandit. I had to come home and clean out your toy box so that you would have room for all of your new toys. In the back of my mind, though, was the worry that you would act badly at your new “school” and we would be stuck in the same boat.

I look back at it now and shake my head. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you. All of your acting out was trying to tell me that you didn’t like it there. You’ve been at your new school for three weeks and you love every minute of it there. Some days, you don’t want to come home with me when it is time to go. Your potty training is going really well (for the most part), you laugh and smile and play all of the time, and best of all, when you come home, now you want to play with mommy and daddy and not just watch movies. And if you do want to watch a movie, you want us to watch it with you.

I love you, sweetheart, and I’m so glad you’re home now.

All my love,

Monday, January 18, 2010

January 18, 2010 Letter from Dad

To My Aaron Michael Phares
Watching SpongeBob, helping you count to five, teaching you “tators”, hearing you say your complete name…all of these things and more have happened over the last six months. If someone would have come to me just before you arrived on that wonderful Saturday and said you will have taught you these things and more, I would have not believed it. But six months ago today we were blessed with you being placed with us…and what a half year can do to you.


You are growing up so fast already. You have learned so many things, even if putting me in time out is one of them. And I can tell you with all my heart that I am proud of you. I LOVE YOU so much and I hope you understand that everything I do is for you and your mom and that I will always encourage you to do what you want to in life. The other night, when mom was holding you and you reached up to the stars, trying so very hard to touch them…DON’T EVER STOP!! Don’t ever stop reaching for the stars!! You can be anything you want to be and I will do everything I can to get you there.
Six months ago we welcomed our forever child into our hearts. You have taken up that space effectively and our family became that much stronger. Your mom and I will always love you and do our best to keep you safe. We will be there when you have straight “A’s” in school, the sports you will play, the knees you will skin, the bumps, the bruises, and all of life’s journeys you will take. I can tell you that we are scared to death at the same time because we want to do what is best for you and be the best parents we can be. But we will always be there for you. Your mom is one awesome lady and I hope you think that I am an awesome dad.
Well, I think I have rambled on long enough now. We have just one more hurdle to jump. On February 8, 2010 we go to court to make it all legal. I’m so happy and excited I can’t hardly sit still…just like you at the dinner table. Your mom is just as excited. And you are going to have one heck of a cheering section in that court room. Mimi, Pop, Grammy, Grandpa and many others will be there to welcome you to the family once again. You already are a major part of this family, the paperwork is just a formality. You just have to know one thing…no matter what, your mom and I will love you today and forever! Don’t you ever forget that for one second!

All My Love “Sweetboy”,


January 18, 2010 letter

My sweet boy,

You’ve been with us for almost six months now, and adoption day looms close. I swear you steal another piece of my heart every day.

From the second I first saw your beautiful face, my heart has been yours. The first two hours you were with us, you slept, and we watched you and cried and held each other. I couldn’t stop myself from touching you to see if you really were there. I held your little hand and wept tears of joy.

Since that day, there have been too many tears to count. I’ve held you close, and cherished every single second we have been together. You are the fulfillment of our dreams.

I’ve watched you sleep and play. I’ve kissed boo boos and doctored scrapes. I was there for your first haircut, and yes I cried when they cut off all your beautiful hair, and I was there to pick you up from your first day of daycare.

You break my heart with your tears, but mend it with “loll you’s” and grunt hugs and sugary wet kisses. And, even when I don’t think I’ll hang onto my sanity if I hear, “Mommy, I want,” one more time, my soul rejoices to be called mommy.

I always knew I would be ferocious protecting you and I’ve proven it more than once. You fill my days with laughter and my nights with contentment.

Not everything is perfect – not by any stretch of the imagination. We all get frustrated, and scared and sometimes even angry, but we are learning. Daddy and I learn something new everyday.

You are incredibly smart, and good grief, you remember EVERYTHING. I’ve learned that anytime a two year old says uh-oh and flushes the toilet, it’s already too late. I’ve learned that the “pee pee in the potty” song sticks in your head for hours and people look at you funny when you are dancing around at work with no music on. I’ve learned that our elderly cat doesn’t like Cheerios, and that my super-hyper black lab relaxes around you, and he loves you and will let you do anything you want to him, even when I know it has to hurt to have your tail pulled. I’ve learned that a jar of Vaseline and 30 seconds unsupervised is a huge mess, but a really good time for a little boy. I’ve learned that you have to disassemble a VCR to get out change, a hot wheels car and the Lion King DVD we looked for all week long.

I’ve learned that story time is one of my very favorite times. You sit in my lap and let me hold you until we make it through a whole book, and even if we have to read the book nine more times before you don’t want to sit still any more, it just gets better each time. I’ve learned that I can’t wait to get off work and go pick you up from school, just to see your face light up and hear you say mommy. I’ve learned that you are precious when you just wake up and come looking for me. You rub your sleepy eyes and always say, “I sleep good, mommy.”

I’ve learned that a toddler on a tricycle is dangerous to walls, shins and anything not quick enough to get out of the way. I’ve learned that when you are in a hurry, there is nothing slower than a two year old, and when you turn your back for a second they move like lightning. I’ve learned the true meaning of fear, watching you run, trying to catch daddy before he left and heading right for the street, knowing I couldn’t make it to you in time. I’ve learned the meaning of sorrow, every time I’m told another biological family member has called asking about you. I’ve learned that even at your most frustrating you are a blessing.

Daddy learned quicker than me to always watch what he says, even if you are in a different room, because even though I have to call your name fifty times to get you to come to the dinner table, one bad word whispered in the kitchen catches your attention and you will repeat it at the most awkward time.

These last few months have been such a learning experience for us. We have grown up and our love has deepened exponentially. All because of you.

I love you forever and ever.