Have I thanked you lately for being so patient with the world right now?
I mean, in general, you're patience resembles that of a bull-shark. But with this, you're just going with the flow.

Have I thanked you for being as strong as you are, and coping with this pandemic like a boss?
For taking this isolation in stride, the exact opposite in which I thought you would?

I know it isn't easy for you. You're just little, almost six years old.
I know you sometimes struggle, but you put on this mask of strength and power, just like Iron Man. But I can see the disappointment in your eyes, no matter how well you play it off.

It's like you've had years of experience just brushing off troubles and paying no mind; like you've been studying your whole life for this moment.

And while the world is a chaotic mess right now, you continue on like nothing's changed.

You continue to push the exact button you need to push to make the hairs on your mom's neck stand tall. You continue to be your boisterous self, because there's no reason to act any different. In fact, you may have picked it up a notch or eleven.

But when I tell you we can't see friends because of the sickness, you look at me with the understanding of a sane adult. You nod and carry on.

The world has changed but you haven't. And I don't want you to.

So while I look for reprieve from your defiance and rambunctious behaviours, I'm thankful for the constant. It's comforting.
It's hard, but it's the only kind of surety I'm gonna get nowadays, and I need some surety.

So thank you little guy.
Thank you for holding the string so I don't float too far away.
For keeping me sanely insane.
For being the ball of love that gives me endless smothering hugs when I need them most.

Thank you for being you.