Month Thirty-Three-ish

Dear Sam,
I thought since I am home with you today, I should have no excuse to find time to write something to you. You are home sick with strep, and I feel so bad for you. This is day two at home, so you are doing much better, but after your nap yesterday you said to me, "My froat hurts." Your tonsils are the size of boulders in your tiny throat and your voice is like a little bubble. I feel so bad for you, and you certainly know how to milk this (good for you!) Here you are holding "fwuffy, tiny Green Lantern" that I bought you because I couldn't resist your sick cuteness. I am a sucker.

The kid is working it for the camera. No lie.

A funny thing about you being sick -- you don't act sick. Well, I guess in the normal way. It turns out you act mean and angry. Last week we had a couple reports about you pushing kids down at school. It was totally stressing me out. I mean, I didn't want you to be the mean kid. We tried to talk to you about it and make sure you knew it was wrong. You kept saying, "I push kids at school. I be bad." Like, you have just resigned to the fact that this was your path in life. Oh, my sweet little meat-head. It just broke my heart. But, all is good now -- we figured out that every time you are sick, you are a bad boy. We will continue to work on it.

You are getting so big and grown up. It is so hard to remember the baby days anymore. Your favorite food is pizza and you ask for it every day. You love the movie "The Sandlot" and say, "You're killing me Smalls!" Your favorite book is "Trick-or-Treat Marley" (of "Marley and Me" fame) and we have to read it every. single. night. Seriously. It has gotten to the point where your dad cannot handle it.

Robin has never looked cuter.

You play Batman and Robin with Abe, and never have a problem being Robin or whoever Abe tells you to be. I am not going to lie, you don't get along all the time, but it is pure magic when you play together in your costumes, running around the house, speaking to each other with special superhero dialogue.

Snowing.

I am not really down with you growing up so fast and turning into a big boy. Not cool (as Abe would say.) This morning you woke up super early and called out my name, so I went into your room. You said you needed to blow your nose (!?) so I went to get you a tissue and then brought you back into bed with me. I lay there thinking that there is nothing better than snuggling with your kids, and then I realized that I won't get to do that in a few years. I mean, what teenage boy wants his mom all snuggling with him in his bed? Uhh, hopefully not mine. So, I guess I will just enjoy this while I can. I will buy you fluffy superheros, make you pizza, and read you Marley and Me trick-or-treating books as long as you will let me.

Love,
Mama