Dear Kayden,
• The night we brought Madison home, you lined up cars on the coffee table like a tiny traffic engineer. You looked up at me and said, “Daddy, is she staying?” I said yes, and you nodded like you’d already decided to make room for her. You were excited
from day one; jealousy never really showed up—you just added her into your day.
• Here’s what I want you to know: you didn’t become smaller when she arrived. You became more. More patient, more brave, more you. You share your couch spot. You
pat her blanket like it’s a puppy. You tell me, “Baby likes my song,” and you’reprobably right.
• I will always have time for towers and backyard races. When baby needs me, I’ll say it out loud and I’ll say when it’s your turn next. You can be mad at the timing and loved at the same time. You can slam a door softly (we’re learning). You can ask for a hug without words by holding up your hand. I’m learning your signals. Keep
teaching me.
• One day, you’ll teach Madison to jump off the last step and land with a superhero face. You’ll complain about her touching your favorite car and then give it to her anyway. You’ll protect her without realizing you’re doing it. And when you’re both
asleep, I’ll stand in the hallway and try to memorize this exact season—the
onewhere you became the kind of big brother we always hoped you’d be.
• Love you always, Dad
A Letter to Kayden on Becoming a Big Brother
