My sweet Dawson,
Hello my darling son. I am at work right now thinking about how much I miss you and how wonderful my life is with you and your daddy in it. At this moment you are 8 months, 4 days, and (approximately) 6 ½ hours old. I am biased, but I think you are a remarkable creature. How can one so small know so much and get into so much trouble?
People always say that kids are the funnest when they are around 2 years old because they start to show their personality. You must be precocious, and I must be lucky, because you have already shown me so many character traits. You are a wild boy. There is no arguing this. Today you broke Grandma Cindy's Christmas decoration by banging it unflinchingly on the counter-top, but you are also tender. I know you can sense people's feelings and it makes you sad when there is tension. You have also shown that you are smart. You understand that what you see in a mirror is a reflection. When Daddy hides his cell phone you aren't tricked, and you know how to make a basket on the little hoop Grandma and Grandpa Heiner got you for Christmas.
You are also contemplative. When a new person enters your life you just stare at them. You warm up faster towards women and tend to gawk longer at men. Something you are struggling with right now is eating baby food. You still love your bottle, but have decided you hate the pureed fruits and vegetables Gerber dares to call food. I think you are just too advanced. This afternoon I had a ham sandwich for lunch. I was holding you on my hip while I ate it and the first bite I took, you leaned in at the same time and took a big bite out of the side of my bun. This isn't shocking to me since you only like to eat “normal” food. You also prefer drinking water from a glass instead of a plastic cup. When you see someone drinking from a glass you immediately begin waving your arms wildly out to the side (your Aunt Sami affectionately calls it your “octopus arms”). There is nothing as cute and irresistible as your octopus arms and grunting noises. Naturally, you get whatever you want. We always procure a drink and smile at the sound of your tiny teeth clinking on the glass and water spilling from the corners of your mouth.
You say “baba,” “dada,” and “mama.” I don't believe you are correlating your babble with objects yet, but every time you say, “mama” my heart skips a beat and all I want to do is hold you, mesmerized that you are mine. I am a selfish woman and I adore when you prefer me over anyone else.
When you are sleepy or get hurt you want your mommy, and I want you, too. I envelop you in the rocking chair, cuddle your cherubic face against my chest, and sing primary songs until your pink eyelids begin to droop and your breathing turns heavy. I relish that moment knowing you love me as much as I love you. I know the years will pass and you'll be bigger than me, and I won't get to cuddle you as you slumber (even though I'll want to). So, I will savor every moment I get with you as my little sweetheart, and forever cherish each step of this wondrous journey together. I love you, Dawson.
Love,
Mommy
