I took a short hiatus from writing you letters . . . not because I didn't have anything to say or report. Only because I can't do it all. I certainly try, but when I try to "do it all" I never do anything well.
The guilt of being pregnant with your sister has set in. I remember this when I was pregnant with you . . . feeling guilty that I was about to totally disrupt Jack's life and the perfect little routine we had established. And now I feel the same way with you. I felt like I was about to ruin his life and now I worry about how you'll adjust.
But I shouldn't be worried, because as we both know . . . nothing could be further from the truth. We can't imagine life without you. Jack was at day camp for two full days last week and you were both missing each other like crazy. You spent the day asking me where he was and Jack couldn't wait to see you when he got home.
I'm not going to lie . . . it was nice having those two days last week just the two of us. You played so well in my office while I worked, and every once in a while would climb up into my lap and cuddle for a few minutes before climbing down and resuming your play. We chatted and I quizzed you on the sounds of the letters of the alphabet. And for any that you couldn't remember, you just made the "zzzz" sound.
I really need to get some of the things you say on video. The way you pronounce words and say things is so funny. You're stubborn and won't usually repeat us when we try to get you to say something on cue, so we have to ask you questions and trick you into saying cute things.
You are the King of "thank you." You thank me when I change your diaper. You thank whoever's driving every time we get out of a car. You thank me when I strap you in your car seat or buckle you into the stroller. You even thank people when they let you hold the door open for them. In the store yesterday, I asked an employee for directions to a particular isle, and before I could thank her you had it covered.
You've become so sensitive. If someone tells you "no" you walk off to a corner or a wall, lean against it and pout for a few minutes, consoling yourself. You throw a fairly typical number of tantrums with a pretty normal level of intensity for your age.
You're developing just like the typical almost-2-year-old should be developing. But you're so much more than "typical" to me. I look at you each day and am still amazed that you're mine . . . that I was lucky enough to get you for a kid. I thought that maybe with the second child that awe would wear off, but it hasn't. I'm totally in awe of the fact that I get to be your mom.
I see so much goodness and strength in you and I pray daily that God will make me equal to the task of developing those things in you. I love you, Ben.