Every month or so I used to write letter to the boys about what they were doing currently, what they liked, struggles, accomplishments and so on. I seem to have lost track of time and it’s been too long since my last Boys post.
Camden,
My quiet comedian, you love to wrestle, kick a soccer ball and play fireman with your brother. You love to have all your gear on and take it on and off to go into the fire station (the couch) the firetruck (my bed). You are currently moseying into our room at about 4am every morning saying a ghost is chasing you. You hate the dark and have to keep a light on to fall asleep, which aggravates your brother to no end. Your covers have to be tucked into the sides of your bed just so. You know all your letters and know which animal starts with those letters, like Z is for Zebra. You love to eat . . . spaghetti, carrots, grapes, blueberries, character fruit snacks, whatever is at eye level in the fridge which you help yourself too, but still ask if it’s ok before you start eating. You bow your head to pray, close your eyes, and sing “Day by Day, For Thy Remembrance and For This Food.” Your laugh is contagious, deep and so from the heart sometimes my eyes well with pure joy at the sound. You have started to say things like, “Stop antatanizing (antagonizing) me!” only toward your brother, “Hey dude”, ” Tuna Melt with blue Cheese” to describe something yucky. “Choooka” – which we are unclear on the definition of but seems to be your own swear word. “Caaaarteerrrrr!” with an emphasis on the “ter!” if you are frustrated. “Just come on already” if you can’t do something your self and need me but don’t want to come ask me. You love to watch videos of Handy Manny, Word World, Mickey Mouse, Geo tracks. You no longer sleep with your Cars. You are now on to the “guys” that go to your firehouse, space shuttle and Batcave. They are kind of like superheros, have interchangeable helmets that you love and will sob for sometime if one is left in the car and we won’t go out to get it. The apartment life is hard for you and your “walk like a herd of elephants” feet. The words, “Please stop pounding” mean very little to you, as they should at 3 years and 2 months of age. You seem so tough that I am amazed at tender moments when I get an unsolicited, “I love you, mom.” You process everything in your head first and can sense feelings very well. You wear a size 4 already, the same as your brother. A size 9.5 shoe and with all your eating you are even out growing those. You are a light in the middle of the dreariest day.
Camden,
My quiet comedian, you love to wrestle, kick a soccer ball and play fireman with your brother. You love to have all your gear on and take it on and off to go into the fire station (the couch) the firetruck (my bed). You are currently moseying into our room at about 4am every morning saying a ghost is chasing you. You hate the dark and have to keep a light on to fall asleep, which aggravates your brother to no end. Your covers have to be tucked into the sides of your bed just so. You know all your letters and know which animal starts with those letters, like Z is for Zebra. You love to eat . . . spaghetti, carrots, grapes, blueberries, character fruit snacks, whatever is at eye level in the fridge which you help yourself too, but still ask if it’s ok before you start eating. You bow your head to pray, close your eyes, and sing “Day by Day, For Thy Remembrance and For This Food.” Your laugh is contagious, deep and so from the heart sometimes my eyes well with pure joy at the sound. You have started to say things like, “Stop antatanizing (antagonizing) me!” only toward your brother, “Hey dude”, ” Tuna Melt with blue Cheese” to describe something yucky. “Choooka” – which we are unclear on the definition of but seems to be your own swear word. “Caaaarteerrrrr!” with an emphasis on the “ter!” if you are frustrated. “Just come on already” if you can’t do something your self and need me but don’t want to come ask me. You love to watch videos of Handy Manny, Word World, Mickey Mouse, Geo tracks. You no longer sleep with your Cars. You are now on to the “guys” that go to your firehouse, space shuttle and Batcave. They are kind of like superheros, have interchangeable helmets that you love and will sob for sometime if one is left in the car and we won’t go out to get it. The apartment life is hard for you and your “walk like a herd of elephants” feet. The words, “Please stop pounding” mean very little to you, as they should at 3 years and 2 months of age. You seem so tough that I am amazed at tender moments when I get an unsolicited, “I love you, mom.” You process everything in your head first and can sense feelings very well. You wear a size 4 already, the same as your brother. A size 9.5 shoe and with all your eating you are even out growing those. You are a light in the middle of the dreariest day.
