Thursday, May 19, 2011

A letter to my son:

Dear Ian,

You are growing like a weed. A crazy little weed. And sometimes I wish that you would slow down, or at least tap the brakes a bit, but then again, I love watching you grow. I thought I'd take a couple of minutes to tell you about what you are like now, at 22 months.

You've really developed a personality now. You wake up in a good mood, and you want to lay next to Mommy and Daddy and giggle for a while before we get out of bed. You laugh out loud, with that bold laugh of yours, as you call us "duuuudddee". You point out our eyes, noses, head, lips, and so on. You never fail to have a couple of good bounces on Daddys belly before you just out of bed.

You've started calling me Mommy more than Mom. You've always called me Mom. You say it in that short, sweet, fast way that you do. It breaks my heart because it is so cute. I spent all of that time wishing you could say Mommy instead. But can I tell you a secret? ... now I'm not so sure. I feel like the fact that you can say Mommy now means that you are growing up and that I'll lose that little piece of your babyhood. The same goes for Daddy. You used to call him Dada, and now you're saying Daddy. I just don't know if we're ready.

You're obsessed with ouchies. You are super proud when you get them. You show them off to everyone you know. You also like other peoples ouchies. You get a concerned look on your face when you see my surgery scars on my belly. You rub them as tenderly say "ouuchhie" over and over again. Sometimes you give them kisses to make them feel better. They are old scars, they don't hurt anymore, but somehow your kisses make them feel better anyhow.

You love monkeys (mimi's), dogs, french fries, cheese, and playing outside. You're a jokester. It's amazing that you can tell jokes when you can't really even speak english. But somehow you manage. But I think that Aiden understands, because he laughs at your jokes.

You think that you can do just about anything on your own. You don't need help climbing into your highchair or your car seat. You put on your own shoes. You can blow your nose and brush your teeth without any help. I'm kind of grateful that you still don't fall asleep well on your own. I kind of like that you have to hold onto my (or Daddys) thumb and rub my thumbnail until you drift off to sleep. Daddy and I like to sneak in a couple of extra kisses before we whisk you off to your big boy bed. (Which is, of course, covered in monkey blankets)

You are such a perfectly wonderful little boy. I feel like I've known you my whole life. It's hard to imagine that just two years ago you were just a tiny babe in my belly, even less developed than your sister is now. I can't imagine what life would have been without you. You bless our lives every single day. I wish all of the best things in life for you.

I love you monstrosity.


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