Dear Son A,

Congrats: you are now two full hands of months – 10! That means you’ve been out of the womb room longer than you were in it – nice work. Some days I’ve wondered if you would make it this far, what with your brother’s enjoyment of playing steamroller and all. Really, how do younger siblings make it without incurring significant damage before they can fight back? I wonder if God uses a little stronger material for version 2.0s and beyond, or if He simply doubles the number of guardian angels on duty. Which, if they outnumber the ones alloted to your brother, means we have about a legion in this household alone.

If you will note in the above picture, you are not sleeping. Nope: the place of slumber has turned into a romper room for you and your brother. Which, honestly, I don’t mind when your naptime ends just as my need-to-lay-on-the-couch-and-watch-Rachael-Ray-be-productive-cause-I-got-nuthin-left time begins. But then you do things like this:

Aw, aren’t you sweet.

And your brother does things like this:

Yes, he’s sleeping. In a bed. In *MY* bed. On your pappy’s side. And no, that’s not JJ’s bunny. Or your bunny. Or hubby’s bunny. We’ll just leave it at that.

OR he’s doing this:

Let’s get a close up for those who have fuzzy eyeballs:

Yes, your brother is sleeping with his favorite thing in the world: LegoTableTVStarWarsGame. Huh? So one day I went to the mailbox, and two packages from amazon were sitting in our package slot. Two packages for me! I was shocked! And then bothered: did I accidentally order stuff that I put in my cart with the intention of holding off and ordering later but usually forgetting about it until it’s not on sale anymore and so I don’t need to buy it? Nope: your uncle Bubba sent us goodies – a pretty for the mama, and a pretty for the rest of y’all.

It has transformed our lives.

No longer do I hear the hum of "the wheels on the bus": I hear "the death march". Calls for "R2, where are you? I can’t hold on! I can’t hold on!" echo throughout the house. All objects can and should be used with "swoosh" noises. Which includes the legs of a lego table that JJ received from Gran and Granddaddy at Christmas (note the sleepless crib picture: they’re there).

So we have a lego table. And we have lego Star Wars. And it’s played on the TV. So now it’s LegoTableTVStarWarsGame. Easy peasy, eh? [Okay, so Star Wars isn't the only infectious thing in our household].

The other day it was sunny. Big deal, you might say. But oh, how it’s been gray and blecky outside. We haven’t been smoted like the rest of the country with high temps and the snow and high temps and snow, but the ceaseless gray does begin to wear one’s spirit down like in the swamps of sadness .

Sensing that it might not last, I quickly threw you into some Happy Sunny Day clothes and whipped y’all outside to document that winter may indeed come to an end.

Note the placement of the dog toy in your hand. And somehow Jacks lets you keep it, simply licking your face as if to say, "Please, puppy, gimme gimme gimme?"

You complied and decided instead to take your incredibly dexterous fingers and pick up teeny tiny, almost unnoticeable except to the naked eye of the 10-month old who could easily choke on things rocks.

Maybe you’ll grow up to be a rock biter (you have to go to about 4.00).

Okay, so here you might notice that you’re a bit drippy and that there’s a bonk on your noggin (apparently the guardian angel was taking an angelic fair trade organic coffee break). Your Gran might not have noticed this, but here – you’re flapping. Just like your mama did when she was your age.

Because on sunny days, you just have to flap.

You are my Sunshine Boy.

Love, Ma

Little A Adventures, Mama Musings