Dear Little Man, Today was a day of epic activity, starting from the first moments when you were awakened to me trying to quell Baby Girl's wake-up tears. They are super fantastic, those croco-tears. Your sister is regressing once more, requiring lots of hugs and devotion, and I'm really just so grateful to you for remaining Chill Bill; you seem to understand it's just her shtick for right now.

You and I spent the morning doing many stretches and calisthenics around the house while Baby Girl watched Wonder Pets save the Armadillo. They managed to save that fraidy Armadillo six times. Lynnie, Tuck, and Ming-Ming were 6 for 6 and that's an impressive clearance rate, young.

In the afternoon, we went to a fall festival at a church school. It was mayhem. It made me think that the words pandemonium and auditorium are more closely related than just in suffix. They may also be veritable cousins in significance, as well. But we'll leave the semantics for another day. Suffice it to say that it was a crazy scene, but you were content to be slung around while Baby Girl moonbounced and bean bag tossed and fished for plastic sunglasses in carnival booths. And while I tried to usher us away from the sustenance of Satan, otherwise known as cotton candy.

When we returned home, you tried to nap. It turns out that your sister had plans to jump rope with my brazierre that she pulled from the rag bag, rendering impossible a nap for anyone.

Later, Daddy arrived home from his all-day frisbee tournament looking like a waterlogged gourd that had been trampled by a herd of harry buffalo. So I let him shower and then you and I finally got that nap we'd been pining after all day.

Why I am telling you all this, even though it all seems very pedestrian and silly and fairly unmemorable, is that it led us to this moment you and I shared this evening. Daddy was putting Baby Girl to bed and I was feeding you out on the couch, clearing out the DVR, thinking about all the pesky things I gots to do this week.

I looked down at your sweet face, your deep, syrupy brown eyes and noticed how you were touching my scarf, examining each fiber and rubbing the fringe just so. It reminded me of how I used to hold my woobie blanket, piecing through each yarn stitch. I liked how pensive, how peaceful you were. It occurred to me that you were perfectly at ease, there in my arms, fiddling with your mother's favorite accessory (both festive and functional? Oh yes, my fave). I thought about the privilege of comfort that family affords a person, how when your brother gets a new buzzcut, you can just up and go paw it with your bare hand. Larry in Accounting on the other hand? He might be opposed. It's nice, this trust we have in our family. I'm so glad you are a part of ours. In fact, in many ways, you complete it.

Love, Mama