Dear Baby X,
You’ll be 2 in the morning. I guess I should move on from calling you “Baby X” on the blog. Tonight, you had a hard time going to bed, which doesn’t happen often. You seemed to have gotten caught up in the sleep sack and were very upset, so I went in the room to check. You settled down sans sleep sack but kept checking for me and wanting me close, touching. You tried to fall asleep standing up in the crib, laying your head on my shoulder.
I can’t find the post I started for you last year. The theme of it I remember and still value. I wrote how your presence in our family brought more work as a mom of two but it also brought me more freedom as a mother. With two kids, I had no choice but to learn to set loving limits for your sister. Learning to give a confident “no” was difficult but life-giving for us all.
This year, you continue to bless our family as its youngest member. You started the year walking just a step or two, and now you run, jump, and climb everywhere you go. You have long since mastered all the playground equipment at our park down the road. You love your new “bat and ball” with a tee that cousin J got you for Christmas. You can play for hours with a single tennis ball, alone. You pick it up, throw it, chase it, pick it up, throw it, chase it. Sigh, so great.
Just recently, your language started taking off. You had a steadily increasing vocabulary all year, and you’re now a master of many phrases such as “sit on your booty” and “go ‘way, Mama.” I just have to laugh. You have a few funny words, chief of which is “hanna,” your word for water. We think it comes from the proximity of the bananas and the sink. Pointing in their direction and asking for “hanna” would get you at least one of two things you were interested in.
You are an easy-going guy, and when you’re fussy, there is almost always a discernable reason. (This is amazing for parents–actually being able to figure out what’s wrong sometimes.) Most of the time you’re hungry. I’m afraid you’re probably your father’s son in that regard. That man can eat. But the good news is that both you and your sister seem to have his build. Here’s wishing you a lifetime of thinness coupled with energy and the ability to eat whatever you want. (Not jealous at all.)
I’m not in the sappy mood I sometimes get in when writing these birthday letters to your sister, and this feels a little more like a doctor well check than a heart-felt note. But, son, know that I love you. You are easy to love. You are a delight. I have learned from you once again how to play and delight in the world around me.
We love you, and we are grateful you are in our lives.
Mom and Dad