Don't Tell the Others

Dear Emma,

For ignoring the “Baby B” label that you were given by the medical staff while you were in my tummy and throwing such a fit before you were even born that the doctor had to take you first

For crafting and for never forgetting a birthday and for creating gifts and cards for Beloveds’ birthdays

For making me laugh with your intentional wit

For lining up your baby dolls by size when you were little and for alphabetizing the movies at the lake last summer

For organizing parties for your friends

For knowing who I’m talking about when I tell you about a friend from high school or a cousin you’ve never met

For always tasting new things

For choosing Sound of Music as your favorite musical and Cinderella as your favorite Disney movie

For saying (after I told you that daddies don’t know everything), “Just me and you know everything, right Mommy?”

For loving little children

For acting so much like me in so many ways

. . . you are my favorite.

Back Tickles,

Mommy

Dear Abby,

For shrugging your tiny premature shoulders and letting Emma be born first because it meant so much to her and for letting her wear the muff with the doll on it for the same reason

For craving written words and for writing bedtime stories

For making me laugh with your quirky wit

For marching to the beat of your own drum; for never once caring what everybody else was doing, even though I wanted you to every now and then

For attending optional social activities

For holding back my hair while I threw up when I was pregnant with Phillip

For obsessing over all things British

For choosing Les Miserables as your favorite musical and Robin Hood as your favorite Disney movie

For standing on your bed, putting your hands on your hips, looking Daddy straight in the eyes, and declaring, “You’re a codfish!” when you were in trouble one time during your Peter Pan Phase

For loving little children

For acting so different from me in so many ways

. . . you are my favorite.

Back Tickles,

Mommy

Dear Phillip,

For stinking up the house and for bringing all the mess and the joy that goes along with a boy that my mama knew nothing about

For studying so diligently to solve a Rubik’s Cube and for working so intensely to beat your best time

For making me laugh with your unintentional wit

For taking your Buzz and Woody dolls (you call them “action figures,” but they’re not) with you and Bradley to see Toy Story 3 when you were 12 years old

For allowing your sisters to dress you up and for playing school with them and unknowingly learning how to treat a girl  

For continuing to let me hug you (not in public, of course) and tuck you in at night (shhh)

For drumming on Every Imaginable Surface

For choosing Music Man as your favorite musical and Toy Story 2 as your favorite Disney movie

For tooting a looonnnggg toot while sitting in your car seat and saying, “I thought my booty was a heli-topter.”

For loving little children

For looking so much like me in so many ways

. . . you are my favorite.

Back Tickles,

Mommy