Dear Drew,
I'm sorry I didn't start doing this sooner. I hope that someday (as long as the internet doesn't curl up and die) that you will be able to read these letters and that they will mean something (anything) to you. My main purpose in writing these it to let you know how my I love you, but also to kind of give you an idea of what everyday life was like with you while you were growing up. It should also serve as a pretty good reminder for me when I get all old an senile and can't remember anything, (which is happening sooner than I thought.)
Right now you are two years and seven months old. You are a pretty bright kid and pick up on things pretty quick. We really have to watch what we say around you. We were visiting friends recently and one of them said, "Holy crap!" which you repeated excitedly until we told you to say "Holy cow!" instead. Lets hope you don't remember that one. And that brings up another thing you like to do: repeat exactly what you said until someone acknowledges you. This actually drives me insane, but if I can't understand what you are saying, it sometimes comes in handy. You are pretty good with most of your words though and are eager to learn new ones. You surprise me on a daily basis with what you know how to say.
You are absolutely full of energy. You are constantly running (and tripping) through the house, jumping off of things, doing somersaults and other weird body contortions. You love Star Wars. You pick up on anything that remotely looks like it could be related to Star Wars. You have a Darth Vader Helmet and a light saber that you love to play with. Although, I must say, you don't get to play with light saber all that much because you usually end up whacking your brother with it, and I take it away. You are definitely "all boy." You growl, yell, play with balls, trucks, trains, airplanes, cars, bikes and tools. But occasionally you like to dabble with mamma's stuff. You were very interested in my bra one morning, so I let you try it on, much to the chagrin of your father. (Sorry, we wont be doing that one again.)
You are infatuated with music, or I should say musical instruments and equipment. Your favorite band is a band that your daddy used to be a part of (you can ask him about that when you're old enough.) You are constantly asking to listen to them and can't quite understand why those people aren't around any more. You're daddy got you a real mini guitar and you love it. You have shown two strangers (who came to our home to give us estimates on various services) your guitar. You grabbed them both by the finger and dragged them downstairs into your dada's studio.
Your favorite book is the truck book. I have to read that thing to you almost every night. I have to admit, I am SICK to death of the truck book. But I'm really impressed that you can say, "sanitation truck." I'm trying really hard to get you interested in listening to other books we have.
You are still not potty trained, and it's not that I haven't tried. You are just really stubborn, and I guess you like the feeling of having a load in your diaper. I, on the other hand, am entirely ready to stop changing those disgusting diapers, so I wish you would hurry up and get on the pot here. But I'm worried if I push you, you will have issues about going to the bathroom. And I don't want you to get a constipation complex, because for some reason I think people who are constipated have deep psychological problems. I don't know, I guess that is my way of saying that your psychological health is really important to me and I don't want to be the cause of any head trips you might have!
You have the cutest little blond head and blue eyes and pale, pale skin just like your momma-but you often look like a carbon copy of your dada. I'm glad you look the most like me though, because your brother doesn't look a spit like me at all! At least not that I have seen yet. You are a tall skinny little kid and probably only about five pounds heavier than your brother. The last time I weighed you, you were still just 27 pounds.
Every night before we go to bed I pray with you. I pray that you will grow up to become a great man of God, to love Him and serve Him. I pray that God gives your daddy and I the skills to raise you to become a quality person. You are my special boy, my first baby. I'm so proud of you and I'm looking forward to watching you grow up, and seeing what you accomplish and what you become. I love you so much!
Love,
Momma
Right now you are two years and seven months old. You are a pretty bright kid and pick up on things pretty quick. We really have to watch what we say around you. We were visiting friends recently and one of them said, "Holy crap!" which you repeated excitedly until we told you to say "Holy cow!" instead. Lets hope you don't remember that one. And that brings up another thing you like to do: repeat exactly what you said until someone acknowledges you. This actually drives me insane, but if I can't understand what you are saying, it sometimes comes in handy. You are pretty good with most of your words though and are eager to learn new ones. You surprise me on a daily basis with what you know how to say.
You are absolutely full of energy. You are constantly running (and tripping) through the house, jumping off of things, doing somersaults and other weird body contortions. You love Star Wars. You pick up on anything that remotely looks like it could be related to Star Wars. You have a Darth Vader Helmet and a light saber that you love to play with. Although, I must say, you don't get to play with light saber all that much because you usually end up whacking your brother with it, and I take it away. You are definitely "all boy." You growl, yell, play with balls, trucks, trains, airplanes, cars, bikes and tools. But occasionally you like to dabble with mamma's stuff. You were very interested in my bra one morning, so I let you try it on, much to the chagrin of your father. (Sorry, we wont be doing that one again.)
You are infatuated with music, or I should say musical instruments and equipment. Your favorite band is a band that your daddy used to be a part of (you can ask him about that when you're old enough.) You are constantly asking to listen to them and can't quite understand why those people aren't around any more. You're daddy got you a real mini guitar and you love it. You have shown two strangers (who came to our home to give us estimates on various services) your guitar. You grabbed them both by the finger and dragged them downstairs into your dada's studio.
Your favorite book is the truck book. I have to read that thing to you almost every night. I have to admit, I am SICK to death of the truck book. But I'm really impressed that you can say, "sanitation truck." I'm trying really hard to get you interested in listening to other books we have.
You are still not potty trained, and it's not that I haven't tried. You are just really stubborn, and I guess you like the feeling of having a load in your diaper. I, on the other hand, am entirely ready to stop changing those disgusting diapers, so I wish you would hurry up and get on the pot here. But I'm worried if I push you, you will have issues about going to the bathroom. And I don't want you to get a constipation complex, because for some reason I think people who are constipated have deep psychological problems. I don't know, I guess that is my way of saying that your psychological health is really important to me and I don't want to be the cause of any head trips you might have!
You have the cutest little blond head and blue eyes and pale, pale skin just like your momma-but you often look like a carbon copy of your dada. I'm glad you look the most like me though, because your brother doesn't look a spit like me at all! At least not that I have seen yet. You are a tall skinny little kid and probably only about five pounds heavier than your brother. The last time I weighed you, you were still just 27 pounds.
Every night before we go to bed I pray with you. I pray that you will grow up to become a great man of God, to love Him and serve Him. I pray that God gives your daddy and I the skills to raise you to become a quality person. You are my special boy, my first baby. I'm so proud of you and I'm looking forward to watching you grow up, and seeing what you accomplish and what you become. I love you so much!
Love,
Momma
posted by sarahgrace at 12:00 AM
1 Comments:
:sniff, sniff: you really shouldn't make me cry like that.
you know, in that very first picture, he looks a lot like beau.
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