My mom always said you’ll wonder how you could love the second kid as much, and then you do. I admit it, I did wonder. But she was right. You are the perfect Ty for our family. It was missing a Ty. I love how you say Dad, and Mom, and Sam (which, albeit, sounds more like “sss” – but don’t worry, we get it) and “cool”, your third word. What baby says “cool” for their third word? And in the right context even?
Speaking of, I love how your remind me of your daddy. You are so handsome, with the best summer blond hair and bright blue eyes. Your best friends (besides Sam) are the vacuum, the humidifier, the dishwasher, the remote, the fan, and any other cord you can eat. Already you have done three things on my phone I didn’t know I could do. I give you two years before I’m asking YOU questions about technology. You love sports, too. And you do like books, mostly to eat. But I know that glimmer in your eyes when we read that color book means librarian-turned-mom still has a chance.
Don’t worry, we have completely forgotten when you screamed bloody murder for a few hours a day those first months. We always suspected you had a sweet little personality lurking under the surface. You still tell us what you want (by yelling in our faces) but what a happy guy you are. Nothing is more fun than seeing you holding onto the edge of the crib in the morning, peeking out, laughing and smiling when I walk in the door. I know you’re ready to come out when I start hearing your animals thud to the floor. Then the blankets and socks. One time you had half an arm out of your pajamas in addition. Might not be long before you’re down to a diaper when you’re ready to come out.
I pray for your wife often, that you’d find a good one. I don’t know why.
Nothing makes you happier than that first moment we come outside, catching/chewing/watching a ball, seeing your Sam, getting picked up, eating blueberries, or getting kissed on your tummy.
What a gift it is to be your mom. You can stay one forever though.
I love you,