Jilli,
2 months to go until 3, and one of your favorite bedtime rituals is to wear one of my t-shirts as pajamas. You had my Class of '95 one on (it completely swallowed you) and you yelled "I am the biggest! Now I can drink iced coffee!" For a moment I wondered if I should reign in some of my vices, but iced coffee? I can handle you aspiring to that when you are grown. You aspire to grow all the time. I, of course, want to slow everything down, review it frame by frame and relive every moment a few more times before going on to the next. In some sense that's why I started writing here. I want to remember for myself and I want to remember for you and Rory.
This month saw plenty of activity. We went to a horse show and you gave a beautiful gray horse a treat. We saw a flyball tournament and you were mesmerized by the racing dogs (until snack time). We attended the Fall Carnival at your school and your dad and I watched as you jumped with unrestrained enthusiasm, hot pink cotton candy in one hand, screaming at the top of your lungs to Ms. Kelly playing her guitar and singing Old McDonald. After each animal she asked you and your friends what should come next and at every single refrain you shouted, "Sheep!" (definitely a sugar high that night). We camped and picnicked and hiked and played at parks. We saw friends and snuggled at home.
You need lots of band aids right now. You fall down and get banged up at about the same rate as every other kid I know, but every night before bed you ask for another band aid. You tell us they make you feel all better. This morning we were getting ready to leave for the museum and I multi-tasked a cool pack in the shape of Tigger (meant for first aid) into a lunchbox ice cube. You took it out of the box and held it over your heart. "This makes my heart feel better." There are days here and there I need a band aid too, but you are my Tigger ice pack. No matter what else is going on, you make my heart feel better.
Love,
Mommy
2 months to go until 3, and one of your favorite bedtime rituals is to wear one of my t-shirts as pajamas. You had my Class of '95 one on (it completely swallowed you) and you yelled "I am the biggest! Now I can drink iced coffee!" For a moment I wondered if I should reign in some of my vices, but iced coffee? I can handle you aspiring to that when you are grown. You aspire to grow all the time. I, of course, want to slow everything down, review it frame by frame and relive every moment a few more times before going on to the next. In some sense that's why I started writing here. I want to remember for myself and I want to remember for you and Rory.
This month saw plenty of activity. We went to a horse show and you gave a beautiful gray horse a treat. We saw a flyball tournament and you were mesmerized by the racing dogs (until snack time). We attended the Fall Carnival at your school and your dad and I watched as you jumped with unrestrained enthusiasm, hot pink cotton candy in one hand, screaming at the top of your lungs to Ms. Kelly playing her guitar and singing Old McDonald. After each animal she asked you and your friends what should come next and at every single refrain you shouted, "Sheep!" (definitely a sugar high that night). We camped and picnicked and hiked and played at parks. We saw friends and snuggled at home.
You need lots of band aids right now. You fall down and get banged up at about the same rate as every other kid I know, but every night before bed you ask for another band aid. You tell us they make you feel all better. This morning we were getting ready to leave for the museum and I multi-tasked a cool pack in the shape of Tigger (meant for first aid) into a lunchbox ice cube. You took it out of the box and held it over your heart. "This makes my heart feel better." There are days here and there I need a band aid too, but you are my Tigger ice pack. No matter what else is going on, you make my heart feel better.
Love,
Mommy
1 comment:
stop getting me all choked up.
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