It’s happened again, as these things are apt to do. My sweet Bug, my snuggly, cuddly boy-in-the-middle had another birthday. Toys one was more low key than they’ve been in the past: a morning of playing with mama and papa, a day at the train park with grandpa, and dinner at Red Robin (his pick).
Happy birthday, Love Bug. You are simultaneously sweet and dependent and fiercely independent. You recite minutes worth of stories, songs, and dialogue from “Mighty Machines.” You are silly, loud, and clever and you always have something to ask or say. You have challenged me unlike your sisters and you’ve stick with me, even as I’ve stumbled through parenting you. You can’t decide if you want to be a firefighter or a garbage man, though I wouldn’t be surprised if you became a performer or a lawyer, like papa, instead Regardless, please stay just as you are today (though I wouldn’t really mind if you were slightly less headstrong with me). We have a fun ride ahead of us and I can’t wait to see where we go!