Newsletter 3.5

Dear Rory -
Well son, here I am, finally writing a newsletter that is waaaaay overdue. I know that I have skipped the last three or four months, but to be honest, it really feels as though we've ALL skipped the last few months. Seriously, where the heck does the time go? It seems like summer is just getting started, and yet, somehow it's already the first of August and I feel like I'm suffering from some sort of time-warp whip lash.

I don't even know where to start when it comes to you, Ro. Since spring, you have been growing like crazy, and I mean that both physically AND mentally. You're over 38 inches tall now (and yes, once again, NONE of your clothes fit!), almost a solid 40 pounds, and you're an unbelievably smart little dude. A little too smart, actually. You have an astounding vocabulary for a three year old, but the scary part is how you use it.

You have become the ultimate little negotiator and you've learned how to play your dad and I like an expert. For example, when you sense that I'm about to ask you to do something you don't want to do (ie. clean up your toys, brush your teeth, etc.), you look at me with those big beautiful eyes of yours and say as sweetly as possible, "Mommy, come here and snuggle with me. I want to give you big hugs!" And because you are still a TOTAL daddy's boy, and you rarely pay attention to me when your father is around, this makes me melt into a big pool of mommy jello. AND YOU KNOW IT, you little stinker. Or when you are doing something you're not supposed to do when your father isn't home (like try and grab knives out of the butcher block for example) and I tell you NO, you look at me very seriously and say, "Calm down Mom. Daddy let's me do this ALL the time."

Oh yes, you are a force to be reckoned with. There are times - plenty of them - when you've pushed my buttons beyond belief and it takes all of my will power not to put you in the first box I can find and FedEx you to Antartica. You are TRULY lucky, my friend, that you are so damn cute. But then there are times when you sit on my lap and laugh with me at Curious George over a shared bowl of Cheerios or when you jump into the pool and swim over to me with your chest puffed up with pride, and I think, how could I want anything other than this?

ALL OF IT.

Love,
Mama