Letters for Aadi 💌

My dear Aadi, today you are five. Five whole years of you. And I still cannot believe how quickly the tiny bundle who fit in one arm grew into a boy who explains the solar system to me at breakfast.

I never know which version of you is going to turn up at that breakfast table. Some mornings you walk me through the whole solar system, planet by planet, in order, and correct me when I rush past Neptune. Some mornings you explain the difference between a concrete mixer truck and the giant transporter that carries a space shuttle out to the launch pad, which, as you pointed out, both move very slowly and both carry something enormous, and only one of them is going to space.

And then there was the morning you announced, entirely unprompted, that you had designed a machine out of Lego to clear the broken satellite pieces out of orbit, and walked me through how the arm folds out to catch them. I did not have a follow-up question. I just sat there with my tea going cold, thinking: where did you come from?

Five is a big number. It's the number of fingers you hold up when someone asks how old you are, all proud, with your whole hand stretched out. It's enough years to have your own opinions about rockets, your own favourite planet, and your own strong ideas about which block goes on top of the tower.

I want you to know what I see when I look at you. I see someone brave. You try things before you know if they'll work. I see someone calm. You have a quiet way of settling a room just by being in it. I see someone happy. The kind of happy that spills over onto everybody nearby. And I see someone courageous, which is different from brave: brave is doing the big thing, courageous is trying again after the big thing didn't go your way. You do both.

Your birthday card had Minions on it, and a little signpost pointing to London, Paris, New York, Freedonia, and the Moon. That felt exactly right for you. Because here is the thing, Aadi: no matter where you go, or where you end up, you will still be another year more awesome. The going is the fun part. The Moon is just one of the stops.

So here is my wish for your fifth year. Keep asking "but why?" until the grown-ups run out of answers, then go find the answer yourself. Build things. Knock them down. Build them better. Be kind to people who are smaller and slower than you, because you were small and slow once, and someone was kind to you. And whenever the world feels too big, remember that your Pappaji thinks you are the best thing he ever helped build.

I pray that you grow up doing amazing things and build an amazing life. Not a perfect one, an amazing one. Those are different, and the amazing kind is much more fun.

Happy fifth birthday, my lovely boy. Open this one with a big smile. 🎈