Three years, a letter to my son

Dear Eliot,

Three years ago, I held you in my arms for the first time and thought, "How the heck did this giant baby fit inside me?"  I know, it's not the most motherly first thought, but it is what it is.  From the moment I held you in my arms, I knew I would jump in front of a bus to save you.  But love... love took about two weeks to fully develop. 
You see, I didn't really know you yet.  It's hard to love someone you've just met, even though every cell in my body was willing to sacrifice itself to protect you.  But about two weeks into your life, as I laid you down, asleep in your bed, the tears came as I whispered "I love you" because I knew I meant it, completely and unconditionally. 
I had a friend at the time, who, just before you were born, warned me that love isn't always immediate for every mom.  She did me a great service that day.  Even though I thought she was crazy at the time, it saved me from ever feeling guilty during those first two weeks.  I knew it would come naturally on it's own, and boy, it did.  And now I'm passing this message along, to all my friends and family about to give birth.  Sometimes, love takes a while, and sometimes it happens at first sight.  Either way is fine, normal, and wonderful it its own right. 
This last year has been the most challenging, but also ridiculously fun.  You are expressing your independance, you have an opinion on all things, and you have thoughtful questions and comments all day long.  I love it when you express the thoughts in your head.  Two days ago, as we walked home from the playground, you asked me, "Mommy, why does the stroller have wheels, and not feet?"  What an excellent question!  Every single day is filled with similar ones.  Things that make me stop, and think, "Hmph.  Why does the stroller have wheels and not feet?" 
Your first year was all about mobility.  Your second year was all about vocabulary, and this year has been the dawn of your imagination. 
Now, you will probably find this hard to believe when you read this someday, but your mommy is known for having quite the runaway imagination as well!  You may have gotten your ears and your slow relaxed eating pace from daddy, but this... this was my gift to you. 
And I love that I must now delve back into my own creativity in order to keep up with yours! Three years ago, it was a rare day that I put out a raging fire, cooked dinner for two rabbits and a monkey, and derailed while delivering boxes and had to call for help from a crane... all in one day.  Now, these and other such events are just a regular part of our day.
You are a well-behaved and intelligent young person.  Yes, person.  While you are still a child, I think we begin to see glimpses of who you might become- and it's exciting.  It helps reduce the bitter part of the bittersweet passage of time. 
Oh, how I wish you were my baby again, and I could undo all the mistakes I made as a first-time mom.  How I wish I had let you sleep in our bed, cuddled between daddy and I, for months rather than days, how I wish I had a photographic memory for every second of every day that we've shared these last three years.  But you are happy.  Despite many errors on my part, you have always been a happy, well-loved, easygoing child who, luckily, does not require perfection of me.  And if you can make that allowance for me, than I can make it for you- the next couple of years will be hard, as you find independence and I grudgingly let go of my baby so that my child can set forth in this world. 
But I am so thankful that I still have many, many years where, in an uncertain moment, you will scamper back and let me protect you.  Don't grow up too fast, sweetie!

love,
Mom

p.s.  Today, you put together a puzzle marked "ages 4 and up" straight out of the box, with no help.  I'm pretty sure this means you are a super genius.