A Happy Birthday Letter

Today my youngest child turns two. He is our last baby. I will never again experience the joy (and the crazy) of guiding a brand new person from sleepy, milk-drunk freshness to walking, talking, adventuring toddler.

I intended to write birthday letters to each of the kids each year to give to them later on. I succeeded for the first four years of motherhood. (So, Agent E is six, but she only has four letters. Agent J is four, but she only has two letters.)

I did write one for Agent A last year on his first birthday, but honestly it's way shorter than his sisters' first birthday letters. (I blame that first whirlwind year of having three kids under five. How exactly did I survive that again?)

As I attempt to compose a note to my precious little boy on the second anniversary of his birth, what do I tell him?

Some things I'll likely include would be the following:

. . . a few tidbits he might find interesting later on, such as his height and weight (35 inches, 27 pounds), his favorite food (hmm, that one might be hard to narrow down), and how he likes to "swim" in the bathtub.

. . . that he is "still" nursing and calls it Momma Milk (unlike his sisters, who had made up words for it at that age).

. . . the words he uses for his sisters—Va Va (Eva) and Ju Ju (Julia)—and how I wonder if those will stick as they grow. (My sister, whose real name is Rosemarie, has been "Mimi" for nearly 50 years courtesy of our oldest brother.)

. . . that we moved back to the states this year (he was born in Italy) on June 1st when he was exactly 19 months old, and what our traveling journey was like. Because you'd think you could never forget a full day of international travel with a toddler (plus two siblings) yet someday we'll be scratching our heads thinking, "how old was he? what month (year!) was it again?"

. . . my admission that well before his second birthday arrived I passed on my guilty food pleasure of cheddar sourdough pretzels.

. . . a bit about his vocabulary, quite extensive compared to his sisters' at the same age. Likely because he hears them talking nonstop every waking moment. And they like to ask him to say new words.

. . . that his very first sentence was "I want mum mum" (but his current favorite thing to say is "Daddy—home—airplane").

. . . a story about his experience with trick or treating last night, where he became an instant "pro" at the knocking-holding-out-the-bag-smiling-and-waving-thanks bit by watching his partners in crime.

One thing I have not yet determined is when I will share these letters. When they turn 16? 18? 21? When they head off to college? leave home? get married? (Heck, Agent E would get a kick out of them now, at six.)

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