Sunday, August 8, 2010




you’re FIFTEEN MONTHS old! it boggles my mind how much you grow, how smart you are getting, how awesome you are. every day you surprise me with something new, always leaving me on my toes trying to figure out what is coming next. ‘cept for the poop. you’re pretty regular about that.


in the past week or so, you got to see your daddy. jonas, dude, you love you some daddy. he’s your biggest playmate and i know that he can’t wait until he can come home and play with you every single day.

but, to be honest, if living with us doesn’t work out…i think you’d be almost just as happy living with a pack of dogs. or happier. JUST REMEMBER WHO HAS OPPOSABLE THUMBS, LITTLE MAN. if you could spend all day every day in the middle of a large herd of puppies, you’d be in heaven. from being knocked down by wagging tails to being licked in the eye…you love it all and you want more. hearing you chase them while yelling “PUH PEE” kills me, as does your incessantly patting hand on the couch, signaling the pups that the coast is clear to join you as you polish off your apple juice. 


you’re also sort of a drama queen. YOU MUST GET IT FROM YOUR FATHER. because when you get in trouble, you usually don’t cry…but rather you FLING yourself to the floor, gnashing the 16 pearly whites. if it wasn’t so amusing i’m sure i’d get annoyed by it. but dang it, your chubby little cankles just waving in the air kill me. 

you’ve also become pretty affectionate. not towards people. but more like cartoons of cats. i don’t understand it. at all. CATS? JONAS. CATS? i mean, dogs i totally understand. gerbils, i gotcha back. heck, even geckos like the one in the geico commercial will work. but cats? SRSLY. your dad is beyond pleased that you love cats because he likes them too. mama? NOT SO MUCH. but anyway, whenever you see a picture of a cat in any of your books, you have to mean forward and give a VERY loud and dramatic kiss to them.

no, i’m not bitter that you won’t kiss me. nor will i file this back into the safe-keeping portion of my memory, only to recall when you are 16 and want to borrow the car.


jonas, you’re a funny little dude. between stacking your blocks to rockin’ with your jams you bring a smile to our faces ALL of the time. and you’ve totally made me THAT mom who obsessively looks at pictures of her kid and is all ZOMG MY BABY IS NUMBER ONE, RULER OF ALL OTHER BABIES. and as much as i hate that i’ve become like that, it’s too late to stop the production of my JONAS IS DA BOMB shirts that are being made.

we love you. we love your chubby thighs and how they help you dance. we love the way you say BOO! back at us, the way you burrow your head into our shoulders when we tickle you, how you cuddle up against us when you are hurt or scared, and how independent you are…needing to figure things out on your own. the other day i asked your daddy what he loved most about me. and your name was at the top of the list. you have transformed us into being such better people…and for that, we are thankful.

with our love,


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