I found I mostly blog when I'm upset about something so I decided to take a cue from my fakeity-fake co-bloggers who have perfect lives and never get into arguments or yell at their kids and write something sugary for my masses of readers out there.
This will not be visceral and edgy like my other posts. And yes, I know I am giving myself too much credit there.
My darling, son, Ian. You are upstairs jumping on the trampoline and it is 5:30 am. I am on my 3rd cup of coffee trying to keep up with you. Your energy is amazing. You are so brave, too. For a four year old, you attack the grown up pool like you don't need your life jacket and waders and have me running behind you, calling on you to wait. You run on oblivious, fast. Many people mistake you for an older child, you are big for your age--and strong.
My sweet, son, Riley. You are sleeping right now, but when awake you try your best to follow in your brother's footsteps. You yell when he yells, fight when he fights, attack the dog on his cue. You laugh at yourself when I chastise you for it. As if we are both in on the same joke. I see you have a sense of humor. You have the gift to make any babysitter fall in love with you. And you are a good dancer! Yes, you dance. You clap your hands and wave your arms in the air to any music or singing. You are a happy, loud baby.
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