You are gigantic. I mean, really. How did you get so big? Sometimes you act like you’re 16, and that scares the crap out of me. But the next minute you are so dramatic and losing your mind because you realized you put blue underwear on today instead of pink and they are Cinderella instead of Hello Kitty and OH MY GOSH THE WORLD IS ENDING.
And then I can breathe a sigh of relief, because you are still only 5.
The way you love and nurture your baby brother warms my heart (in fact I wish you would love and nurture Lincoln that way too sometimes, instead of fighting with him on purpose… but I digress). You have such a beautiful maternal instinct and you’ll be a fantastic mother one day. You love him to excess, which can be frustrating – particularly when you pick him up even though you know you aren’t supposed to… but down deep, I am thankful that you want to hold and snuggle him so.
I see a lot of myself in you, which is scary but also a little magical.
You are SO smart. I’m sure every parent says that about their kid, but I really think you are. You pick up on things so quickly and you make me so proud so often. Mark my words: you will do great things one day. You have the passion, the imagination and the brains to accomplish whatever you want. Never forget how capable you are.
You are the sweetest boy. Everyone says so (really, it’s not just me!). You are silly and carefree and have a hilarious little “hee hee” giggle. Unlike your sister, when you fall down, you get right back up and move along as if nothing ever happened. You’re resilient and tough.
Your love of superheros brings me joy. I love to watch you out of the corner of my eye as you fly around the house with your cape on and say to yourself, “Oh no! The bad guys are coming!” You are such a boy, through and through. Although, being as you only had the influence of a girl as you’ve grown these last few years, you also love to play with baby dolls, barbies and purses. You mimic how Mia talks in a high pitched voice when you play with little toys and you are perfectly happy sitting down for a tea party. This sweet side of you is perhaps my favorite.
You love to snuggle with mom and dad and your baby blue eyes get me every time. Keep flying around the house and saving me from bad guys – I’ll always need your protection.
Stop it already. Stop growing. 9 MONTHS. You’re my last baby and the number of kisses I smother you with daily is clear evidence that I’m holding tight to your innocence and youth.
You have big fat cheeks and two tiny tooth buds, and when you smile with squinted eyes and stick out those teeth I just want to eat you up.
You have been a good sleeper, happy for the most part and mild-mannered, but you spit up on me all.the.time. Scratch that – you spit up on EVERYTHING all the time. You’re my first child who’s had any kind of food intolerance and I’ve had to give up dairy, soy and caffeine for you. You’re lucky you’re cute.
You’re army crawling all over this house, but don’t really have an interest in crawling the proper way. Every time I put you up on your hands and knees, you flatten out and get right back to scooting with a big smile on your face.
You like to say “da-da-da-da” and “ma-ma-ma-ma” and “ba-ba-ba-ba.” And you get so excited that you flail your arms and hit me – in the face, in the arm, in the chest. It’s cute, but it hurts.
You’re going to be our cute baby boy, forever and always. And you’re going to get away with a lot. I can already tell. I apologize in advance for any resentment your brother and sister may harbor in the future.