Five

For last year’s post, click here and the year before that, click here.

Dear Bubba,

Oh sweet boy, I can’t believe what a big kid you are.  I promise one of these days I’ll stop referring to you as “the baby.”  Eventually.  Probably.  Check in with me when you graduate from college.

The Baby, back when he was an actual baby.

This last year has been so crazy, hasn’t it?  Maybe a little confusing for you at times?  Between low moments like Daddy’s surgery and fun things like the wedding you’ve been expected to be a little man and behave and be so patient and adult.  I don’t know if it’s luck or your good nature or maybe Daddy and Mama actually know what they’re doing, but you come through for us.  Sometimes I worry we expect too much from you, but you never complain.  Seriously: quit making me look bad.

So dapper in your tux. Like the Don Draper of Pre-K.

You’re in this really sweet spot of being little and cuddly and absolutely adorable and lovely but big enough to go places and behave like a functioning human being and express your needs in a rational manner.  I mean, you still have your moments, but who doesn’t?  I love you – I will love you even if you’re a a shitty teenager who pretends not to know me in public.  But I am finding that I like you and your company. 

Out of Control? Most definitely.

You are witty and a bit of a clown.  You mimic but also bust out your own little sayings and jokes.  You are sensitive and quick to comfort others.  You are fiercely protective of your family, even your Sissy.  You are no fun at all if you are hungry or tired (and frankly, I don’t hold it against you).  You are a complete original.  You are so loved and adored by all who meet you.   Especially this crazy family of yours.

Happy Birthday, Little Man.  I love you to the moon and back.

Love always,

Sissy

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