10.14.09 :: 2:21 pm
Dear Oliver, A few days ago you turned 15 months old. I know, I'm lagging on these letters but so much crap has gone down recently that I can't even think about sitting down to resize a photo or think of a 15th way to tell you how crazy I love you. We went to Greece, and it nearly killed us all. And we were exhausted. We came home a week early, having aged approximately ten years, and later that month you came down with your first real illness. But you obviously recovered and then went on to learn new tricks and skills like climbing onto the rocking chair by yourself, pointing to members of the family when asked where they were by name, and busting out with a new repertoire of babbling. You got a haircut and as the patient lady dusted off your collar, you transformed before my eyes into a five year old. I'm going to keep it short because I'm writing this completely on the fly and I don't have any pictures to add but let me tell you, Tater. You're full of amazing dichotomies. The well-behaved spaz. The empathetic loner. You have a sense of humor and know when to use it. I can't wait till you're old enough to understand the specific brand of happiness you've reflexively given me. You are mine forever.
Love, |