Letter to My Son

Dear Son,

When you learn how to count to three, it should be an easy task.  You started responding to 1….2….3….. in the womb.  The only way I could get you to give the kick counts for the non-stress test when I was pregnant was when your Daddy would lean into my stomach and say, “One… Two… THREEEEEEEEE…” And you kicked up a storm in my womb.

Now, when we count to three, you get a raspberry on your tummy or we tickle your toes.  When we start with “one” – your eyes get saucer wide!  Your Daddy loves that look on you.

I love your smiles, of course, but I think your “Kisses” face is my favorite. 

Last Sunday was the first time you went to church.  The minister talked about the Boston bombing and focused on how people were “at the wrong place, at the wrong time, and did the right thing” meaning the first responders, etc.   This was after The First Reading, Acts 9:36-43.  Rev. AJ followed it up by saying we are in a community of faith and it’s seen when we reach out to help one another.

I want that for you, a community of faith, for you to lean on in times of need.  I think about what’s going on in the world and I wonder what we are leaving for you to struggle through in your adult years.

While leaving the church, a number of parishioners walked up to us to say how quiet you were.  Your Daddy replied, “He ate right before we came here, but he’ll give us an ear full later.”  Hehe, you do have strong lungs!

To watch the video on youtube, click here.

When you smile now, you watch my lips.  And when I laugh, you open your mouth in a wide grin.

You giggled once when you farted, but now, I think you are learning how to giggle and laugh by example.  I hope you have your Daddy’s sense of humor, though his jokes are sometimes “out there.”

For example, when your cousins, Holly and Michael, came to visit, Holly was holding you.  Greg came up to you, sniffed and said, “I think he has a dirty diaper.”  Then  your Daddy put his finger near your diaper and pulled out a finger with “something” on it and your Daddy put his finger in his mouth and said, “Yes, that’s a dirty diaper!” It was priceless to see Michael’s horrified expression, thinking your Daddy just ate poop.  Don’t worry, it was just peanut butter on your Daddy’s finger.  Lol.

This weekend, I was a bad Mommy.  I blame it totally on your Daddy.  He told me to do it.  *snort laugh*  I can hear you telling me that in the future already, “But Mommy!! Daddy told me to do it!”  And I’ll have to believe you. 

We were are Caffe Latte Da, an important place to you.. where you’re Mommy and Daddy first met and where your Daddy proposed.  We ordered our usual; you were wide awake and bright eyed.  You already had breakfast at 1am and 5am and 8am and now it was our turn for breakfast.

We split a Western Scramble with the sauce on the side.  It comes with a biscuit and I like strawberry jam.  We were finishing up breakfast when your DADDY told me, “Put some of the jam on your finger and see what Gregory does.”

You sucked the little taste of jam right off my finger!  Then you coo’d and squirmed, bobbing your head left and right and wide eyes looked for more!  I laughed so hard, your Daddy looked around the restaurant to see who was watching us.  I can’t wait to take all the pictures that come with feeding you food, but that’s not for another 2 months.  From yesterday’s experience I think you’ll adapt well to it.

After breakfast, we went to The Big Orange store.  You’re Daddy will have you fitted in a Home Depot tool belt before you can walk!  We bought some plants.  Daddy teases me that I kill plastic plants, but the garden work I did before I got pregnant with you (come to think of it, the first 9 weeks of being pregnant with you, I WAS gardening, just didn’t know I was pregnant at that point in time), those plants came back alive and well this year.  It’s the weeding I’m not fond of, but it’s good weather right now.

I just need to find a way to garden and have you outside with me or you’ll have to be in the crib with the monitor on.  Your grandfather, Opa, and great-grandmother, MawMaw, love flowers.  Your Granny grows pretty roses too.  It’s my hope that you’ll find joy in gardening.

Love Always,

Mommy