A Letter to my Son:

Dear Ian,

It's been a while since I've written you a letter. Since before Vanessa-Kate was born I believe.

I want to tell you how impressed I am with you. You're two years old now, and you are the very best big brother in the world, and I really mean that. I had hoped that you would be sweet to your sister, but I imagined more trouble than we've had. You are so good to her. You stroke her hair, you give her kisses, and you even like to help feed her. You're always leaning down real close to her face and asking "You o-tay? You aw-wight?" just to be sure that she is comfortable. If we have any problem with you with her it's just that your lips are permanently attached to her face. You make me so proud.

You're learning to express yourself so much more these days. You put together sentences, and come up with your own ideas. Yesterday you told me out of the blue that you wanted to buy Mamal's house. You've also decided that you want to be a robot for Halloween. I asked if you wanted to be a dinosaur or a monster...you said you wanted to be a robot. They're your new thing. You have one pair of robot pj's and you get angry that you can't wear them every day and every night. We have to discuss it every single morning when you get dressed.

You're also a little bit of a booger lately. Actually, a lot. You don't like to listen and you get a bit whiny sometimes. But all in all, you're a pretty good kid. Even your boogery times are totally worth it...because you're so much fun! And you're so sweet. You *try* to help me with everything. And you give kisses, hugs, and cuddles all of the time. I'm so very glad that you aren't outgrowing that yet.

Also, you are super cool and you don't even know it yet. You're two years old, you insist on wearing your checkered vans everywhere, you love your Star Wars shirts, and you beg Mommy to turn on football for you. Then you sit down and you actually watch it. lol. You shout "Go Bucks" and "Go Browns" no matter who is playing. You are too stinkin' cute.

I love you Nutball.

Love,
Mommy