Dear M,
I don't care if you grow to be 6'5" and 230 lbs, you will always be my baby.
I cling to every snuggly moment with you, even though I see that it won't be too long before those gangly legs and arms have a heft that I can no longer comfortably hold the weight of.
I try to pay attention to those big front teeth sandwiched in between the tiny nubs of baby teeth when you talk to me about important 2nd-grade stuff.
I enjoy watching you come downstairs in the morning wearing your Guardians of the Galaxy underpants and holding your Papaw pillow, your hair in 14 different directions, and your eyes still heavy with sleep.
I know these days are numbered.
You are still adamant that you like and want the "same thing as G," even though I suspect it won't be too long before you admit that you like what YOU like much more instead....whatever that actually happens to be.
You often say you want to read silently to yourself at bedtime, but you are content to have me or Daddy sit next to you as you do it. You point out funny things you notice or something unusual so we can at least have some notion of what you are reading and whether you know what is going on.
Of my children, you are the only one who pretty regularly likes the vegetables I give you, especially if they are of the squash family and slathered in butter, cinnamon, and brown sugar.
When I think of your personality, I call you my "Indian chief" because I don't think you are going to fit into a similar mold as your sister and brother. I'm not sure what you'll end up doing in school or in life, but I suspect it will be something that keeps your body busy and not just you sitting behind a desk every day.
I love your current mop-of-hair style. Daddy makes comments about your "wings," but I like all the weird contortions your naturally wavy hair makes. I play with your hair at night as you are trying to fall asleep and am astounded by how long it is when I pull out the curls to their full length.
You've already had a friend stay the night and your big family celebration with G, so today's celebration will be just us with you opening up the small gifts from Mommy and Daddy. Oh, and your "8" cookies, which have become a tradition.
Even though I often think I have no clue who you are because you are so intent on being a carbon copy of your brother, I know that you are super polite, always holding the door for others. You are sweet and sensitive, sometimes coming off the bus and telling me how you got tears in your eyes when you read a book about a dog who was missing a leg. You are, thankfully, so easy-going as to make my life much easier, especially since your big brother is not easy-going in the least.
For the rest of my life, I will always be thankful I got my bonus baby, and that he is you.
Love you,
Momma
I don't care if you grow to be 6'5" and 230 lbs, you will always be my baby.
I cling to every snuggly moment with you, even though I see that it won't be too long before those gangly legs and arms have a heft that I can no longer comfortably hold the weight of.
I try to pay attention to those big front teeth sandwiched in between the tiny nubs of baby teeth when you talk to me about important 2nd-grade stuff.
I enjoy watching you come downstairs in the morning wearing your Guardians of the Galaxy underpants and holding your Papaw pillow, your hair in 14 different directions, and your eyes still heavy with sleep.
I know these days are numbered.
You are still adamant that you like and want the "same thing as G," even though I suspect it won't be too long before you admit that you like what YOU like much more instead....whatever that actually happens to be.
You often say you want to read silently to yourself at bedtime, but you are content to have me or Daddy sit next to you as you do it. You point out funny things you notice or something unusual so we can at least have some notion of what you are reading and whether you know what is going on.
Of my children, you are the only one who pretty regularly likes the vegetables I give you, especially if they are of the squash family and slathered in butter, cinnamon, and brown sugar.
When I think of your personality, I call you my "Indian chief" because I don't think you are going to fit into a similar mold as your sister and brother. I'm not sure what you'll end up doing in school or in life, but I suspect it will be something that keeps your body busy and not just you sitting behind a desk every day.
I love your current mop-of-hair style. Daddy makes comments about your "wings," but I like all the weird contortions your naturally wavy hair makes. I play with your hair at night as you are trying to fall asleep and am astounded by how long it is when I pull out the curls to their full length.
You've already had a friend stay the night and your big family celebration with G, so today's celebration will be just us with you opening up the small gifts from Mommy and Daddy. Oh, and your "8" cookies, which have become a tradition.
Even though I often think I have no clue who you are because you are so intent on being a carbon copy of your brother, I know that you are super polite, always holding the door for others. You are sweet and sensitive, sometimes coming off the bus and telling me how you got tears in your eyes when you read a book about a dog who was missing a leg. You are, thankfully, so easy-going as to make my life much easier, especially since your big brother is not easy-going in the least.
For the rest of my life, I will always be thankful I got my bonus baby, and that he is you.
Love you,
Momma
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