October 5, 2008

Dear Jack, Month 16

Dear Jackson,

For your first 15 months of life, I would often jot down little notes along the way so that when it came time to write your letter, I didn't have to recall an entire month in one sitting. I didn't do that this month because, well, life has been too busy. Which is why your letter is three days late. So, my temptation this month is to write:

"You're bigger.
And smarter.
And funnier.
Love, Mama."

Because you did get bigger. Specifically, taller. Pants that fit you in August are too short now. The scale doesn't show that you gained all that much weight, but my arms feel like you did. And you have three molars slowly and painfully pushing their way through your gums . . . which practically makes you a grown man.

And you did get smarter. Your vocabulary is sporadic, but growing. On some days you will clearly verbalize what it is that you want (those days are usually after a good night of sleep). On other days, you revert to grunting and pointing. You're learning to deal with the fact that just because you know how to ask for something doesn't mean you'll always get it. Your two favorite things to ask for are "dide" (to go outside) and "dairs" (to go downstairs). Usually, when we take you one of these two places, you're ready to go back in or back upstairs as soon as we get there. Sometimes I wonder if you're just trying to show off your ability to tell us what you want.

And you're definitely funnier. You are, perhaps, the funniest when you dance. We LOVE to watch you dance. Every time you hear music . . . even faint music from a distance . . . you start bobbing your head up and down and rocking back and forth. If the music's loud, you jump, spin and flap your arms. It seems you've inherited your parents' total lack of rhythm or dancing ability. But you don't care. You just move and you love it. And we love it too. The only thing you like more than dancing is when your dad and I dance with you; though, you will never see any footage of this because your dad and I have made a pact to never to video tape the other dancing with you. On Friday, you were working with dad in the garage and had his ipod. You put the ear bud up to your ear, closed your eyes and started rocking back and forth as if you were "feeling" the beat. You crack me up.

Life is passing us by so quickly and before I know it, you'll be off at college. And instead of jotting down notes for your letter, I'll be jotting down notes of things that I want to ask you or tell you when you call. I know you think I'm exaggerating, but 20 years from now, I'm going to read this letter and say, "It feels like I wrote that just yesterday."


1 comment:

Kristi said...

You make me anxious to be a parent. I think its awsome that you write him these letters and I think I'd like to steal your idea in about eight to ten years.