You've come a long way, baby

Dear Alex,

I'm writing to you on this 4th of July to wish you happy birthday and to tell you how proud I am of you and how you've fared these last twelve months. I sent you out into the world a year ago to the date, remember, and for a while you made no contact. You had me worried for a while, you know, but you did tell me as you headed out not to wait up, only leave a light on for you.

That I did, and you found your way back with good news. Remember how happy I was, how utterly speechless, but with something that big, that good, that wonderful, how could I have done anything but fought for my breath? But you couldn't stay, could you; you only came back to pick up the rest of your things and to tell me I would have to stay on alert for just a while longer.

Honey, if the first stretch was a nail-biter, the second was nothing short of the screaming mimis. And screech I believe I did, if I remember correctly, not that I do, happy day, fuzzy day, when you mailed to tell me you wouldn't be coming back and not because you didn't want to but because someone wouldn't let you. You had some work to do and you needed my help. You had someone to help you out and someone for me to work with, and boy have you been a handful, but a sweet, rewarding, educating one. One-year-olds usually are.

They get all the attention and they know how to demand it. The expectations are high but probability of survival uncertain until you learn to trust your skills. They get to pave the way, make all the mistakes later written under 'learning the stupid-ass way', enchant with their novelty and enrage with their unpredictability.

And I'm telling you now, sweetie, start misbehaving and you'll find yourself on your way back to me. You truly want that? Didn't get your fill of being my toy boy to order around and use mercilessly any which way I could think of? Twisting you this way; never knowing what I wanted from you next; turning you that way; demanding and then pushing for more? Do you truly want to risk the chance I may not have evolved enough in your absence to handle you with more care and subtlety? No, you can't talk to your successors; they're all under house arrest until they do my bidding.

The whip is still cracking as the stories are spinning, so stay put and enjoy the hands and treatment of someone who knows what they are doing and is willing to teach me the ropes, too. No, you can't complain or you'll be dealing with Mommy Dearest. And neither of us wants that, do we? Alex? Baby? Are you listening? Stop acting like a one-year-old and give me a big sloppy one. I promised no favorites, but you always remember your first one. I can promise you that.

With love and Mavala Stop,

Your Tenacious D