Dear Frank,
It is just too much, really. Every day that passes, I love you more. I love you so much that you drool all over me, and I laugh and let it sink into my shirt and neck and face. I love you so much that you burp, and it smells like intoxicating perfume. Is this even possible? Is it even possible to be so enamored with my son?
This is it. Before you, I honestly never understood the moms who didn't want to leave their babies at home for an extended break. I grew overwhelmed with diapers and sleepless night and runny noses. And somehow, Frank, you have cast a magical spell of maternal wooziness upon me. Your giggle and dimply smile are everything I need to believe my day is perfect.
Oh, how I love you, my almost-crawling baby. 7 months.
Your,
Mama
It is just too much, really. Every day that passes, I love you more. I love you so much that you drool all over me, and I laugh and let it sink into my shirt and neck and face. I love you so much that you burp, and it smells like intoxicating perfume. Is this even possible? Is it even possible to be so enamored with my son?
This is it. Before you, I honestly never understood the moms who didn't want to leave their babies at home for an extended break. I grew overwhelmed with diapers and sleepless night and runny noses. And somehow, Frank, you have cast a magical spell of maternal wooziness upon me. Your giggle and dimply smile are everything I need to believe my day is perfect.
Oh, how I love you, my almost-crawling baby. 7 months.
Your,
Mama
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