Dear Baby John,
Yes. I still call you Baby John. I will call you that until the end of time because you are just that. My baby.
But.
You aren't really a baby any more. According to your stats at the doctor yesterday (height 37.75 inches and 34 pounds), you are the size of a 3.5 year old. You still love "baby" things like your cow lovie Mimi, and your binkie, which you call "see-see" or "he-see". Your Dad is hot to trot to get you to ditch the binkie, but I am holding on to these last little baby items for dear life.
You are such a spectacular kid. You are both quiet and sweet, but also loud and crazy. When your sister would pick on you when you were small, we would warn her there would come a time when you would be bigger and be able to fight back. Well, that day has come. You are no longer afraid to grab her hair and throw alarmingly heavy toy cars at her.
Your aim is impressive.
You appear to be left-handed. You love the movies Cars and Planes. You will flex and yell "VROOOM! Ka-CHOW!" (Lightening McQueen's tag line) and like to call yourself "Keen", short for Lightening McQueen. You love Nilla Wafers, bananas, meatballs, and fish sticks. You are a questionable sleeper and I am sure one of these days you will shake the cold you have seemingly had since birth.
You are all boy.
You love Captain America, though you have never, to my knowledge, seen a TV show or movie with this character. I think you just seem to know he's very manly. You love tools and trucks and cars and heavy equipment. You are a real man's man at the ripe age of 2.
You are very charming and have pretty much every person in this family wrapped around your finger. You cry when Annie is hurt because it makes you sad to see her sad. You cuddle up and touch the side of my face when you think I am sad or mad. Your favorite place is on your Dad's lap.
You two love to take baths together, but when I say it is getting CRAZY, that's an understatement. How there is any water left in the tub at the end of each bathing session is beyond me. Wine consumption is up on bath nights.
This face. Ugh.
It is not uncommon to walk in and find you two snuggling and holding hands. Lord, please let them stay this close forever. I understand there will be a few breaks when they are teenagers and want to kill each other, but for now, they are truly best buds. Except for when there's throwing of cars and pulling of hair....but nothing's perfect.
You are so wonderfully weird and fun. I love every day we have with you.
And your Dad. Oh how you love your Dad. He's the only one allowed to put you to bed at night or retrieve you in the morning. He's your go-to guy for all things parenting, and he loves it so much. Now, were I a more sensitive person, I might get my feelings hurt by you yelling "NO! Gaga!" (your word for "dad" right now) at me when I come in to check on you when you are crying in the night. Or when you yank your hand away when you realize it's my hand you are holding and not your dad's. But no worries, my little man. I know your Dad is awesome and I know, or hope, there comes a time when you are looking for your mom just as much. And when you do, I will be right there.
I love you, sweet boy. Happy birthday.
~Mom
No comments:
Post a Comment