10 February 2014

Big Boy

Dear Frank,
 
You are sleeping right now and I thought I would grab this quick moment of silence to write you a letter.  I used to sit down and write much more with your older siblings.  I haven't spent quite as many words on you.
 
But wait---before you get mad, let me say this:  With you, I have spent the time.
 
I have pulled you out of bed to rock for ten more minutes.  I have sung to you and admired you and let you spend a half hour dribbling apple sauce into your mouth bite by dropping bite. 
 
Oh how we have laughed Frankie!   And built towers of cans and hugged and hugged.
 
This week, you began to finish the songs we sing.  You told me this morning that you were going poop.  
 
You are not really a baby anymore.
 
Oh kiddo, I am so lucky to be your mom.  This has been an upside-down roller coaster, and the crazy love you have grown in our family is something we couldn't have predicted or deserved.
 
Better wake up, kid.  There's another adventure on the horizon.
 
I love you.
 
Mom