It happened. You've become the "typical third child" category with my delay in monthly letters. If you knew how guilty this made me feel, you'd totally forgive me. Yes, you have fewer letters than your brothers, and I'll probably take less pictures of you than I did of them, but when they've gone off to college and you're the only one living at home, getting anything you want, you'll be glad to make that trade off.
Let me remind you of an important advantage of being the youngest . . . you have four people who absolutely adore you. In the eyes of your brothers, you can do no wrong. They're the first to try and calm you when you cry and the first to applaud you when you do . . . well, anything.
The last three months have brought so much change that I don't even know where to begin. You're sitting up, eating solid foods, almost-crawling, giving sloppy kisses, squealing with delight, waving 'hi' and 'bye', and babbling like crazy. You're a different kid than you were the last time I wrote.
Something that has NOT changed is that you are HAPPY. About 92% of the time. With the exception of evening crying when you were 6 - 12 weeks old, you've been one of the happiest babies I've ever met. Sure you fuss sometimes and can get frustrated when your needs aren't being immediately met, but in general, your disposition is lovely. I can't get enough of you. I keep waiting for everything to just come crashing down and for you to become more of a challenge. Maybe it'll be when you start crawling more. Maybe when you hit the terrible twos. Maybe your teenage years will be full of angst. But for now, I'm enjoying your sweetness.
Perhaps your good nature is a result of the massive amounts of sleep you get. You sleep 11 - 12 hours at night and then take 2 decent naps during the day. Sometimes 3, but usually just the 2. You fall asleep within minutes of me laying you down and you wake up all gurgley and smiley.
I sing to you most nights, but it doesn't last very long because you like to be laid down pretty quickly. Rocking isn't really your "thing." I can normally only get through one verse of any given hymn. But when I lay you down, I always end with the doxology. As I sing the words "Praise God from whom all blessing flow" I can't help but count you as one of those blessings. You bring us all so much joy, Claire. And even if you wake up cranky tomorrow, or you become a defiant two year old or grow into a moody teenager . . . we'll still be delighted by you!
Love,
Mama
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