A reflection on stepping out of your comfort zone, returning to what matters, and the simple truth that kindness and gratitude outlast everything else.

I’m sat back at home now, the fire crackling outside, soft jazz humming from the Alexa, your mum next door organising all your new birthday presents while half-watching Selling Sunset.
The house feels warm, lived-in, quietly buzzing with that familiar family chaos I seem to miss when I’m away.

It’s strange how time moves. This time last week, I was writing to you from a hotel in central Copenhagen, feeling a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite name. Missing you deeply, feeling creative, but also unusually lonely. I was apprehensive about the week ahead, unsure how I’d fit into a world of new faces, new expectations, new pressures.

That week in Scandinavia pushed me outside my comfort zone in more ways than I expected.
But by the end of it, something shifted. I’d done myself proud. I’d shown up and I’d kept it 100% me, from start to finish. In the process, I made friends from corners of the world I’d never imagined crossing paths with.

I came home tired, properly tired, but resting wasn’t an option because it was your birthday.
And your mum and I wanted this one to be special. Four feels like the first birthday you’ll really remember. The first one you might store somewhere inside you.

We had signed books from Rachel Bright, my favourite author, and someone who has become a mentor and friend in ways I never saw coming. She sent you a personalised drawing from her latest book, The Turtle Who Turned the Tide, which is now sat proudly on the kitchen shelf, right in my line of sight as I write to you.

Your birthday party was a roaring success, more so than I even realised in the moment. And that’s another reason why writing to you has become so important for me. It forces me to sift back through the days, to notice what I might have missed, to appreciate the moments that deserve more attention.

The party was FUN.From the meerkat sitting on your mum’s shoulder, to the flying squirrel that leapt off my arm, the chinchilla curled up on your lap, and the scorpion perched bravely on your cousin Sophie’s hand. Your eyes were wide the entire time. You were in your element.

But here’s what I haven’t stopped thinking about, something your grandad noticed too.

You weren’t selfish.
You shared your toys.
You included every friend.
You said thank you for each present.
There were no tantrums, no squabbles, no tears.
Just sweetness.
Just calm.
Just a little boy happy to be in a room with his family and his pals.

By the end of the party, you didn’t ask for more.
You didn’t expect more.
You quietly climbed onto my shoulders and we walked home.

Leo, I’m so proud of you.

And there’s a lesson in all of this,  one I want you to carry with you as you grow:

Being a good person isn’t loud. It isn’t dramatic. It’s gentle. It’s generous.
It’s sharing what you have, and slowing down long enough to say thank you, and to mean it.

Not everyone learns that early. But you’re already showing signs of it. And that makes me feel like we’re doing something right.

Life will pull you in many directions. You’ll travel, you’ll try new things, you’ll step into unfamiliar rooms just like I did last week. And I hope you do, because that’s how we grow.

But no matter where you go,carry this with you:

Kindness travels further than courage, and gratitude lasts longer than excitement.

I love you HEAPS,

Daddy 🤍

IG handle: @ryan.libbey