dear huck // 2

monday morning snow day. heaven right here on earth.

you were born just in time for one of the most notoriously cold and snowy winters in northern virginia. no one here knows what to do when any accumulation of snow falls at all, and temperatures in the single digits cause shut downs all around. all this really means for you and me is that we get to hang out with daddy lots more - he gets to stay home with us just about every time it snows. we love it! we mostly stay in the house together and watch the flakes fall in heaping piles on top of our stagnant cars. i don't think you would mind the cold if we had any real reason to go outside, you spent last winter in minnesota - although snug and warm in mama's tummy - where temperatures in the single digits - or any temperature above zero - are celebrated through most of the winter. snow fall in minnesota on a typical tuesday will reach 4-6 inches without even sparking a head turn, it just means it's winter after all and everything is right in the world. any prolonged amount of time without snow on the ground between november and the middle of march is almost eery, especially if it lasts for more than a week. but we loved it there, and some day we will take you back to our old neighborhood and i know you will love it too.

you are completely in love with your daddy these days, and when he comes home from work you stare at him first without a smile, then burry your face in excitement as he sneaks closer to you with his tickling fingers and nuzzling nose. your smile is bright and a little bashful, and you talk and talk while daddy holds you in his lap and makes goofy faces while he asks you about your day. that picture, the one with the two of you chatting away together, is one i'll hold in my heart forever. my two loves, both so very much in love with each other. there's nothing better.

you started screaming from the bottom of your toes last week, and i'm convinced it's only because you're a huckleberry and you know how to make your mom and dad jump. we could be having the most spectacular time reading stories, playing with your yellow puppy, or dressing you after a bath and your lungs will open up with the most dreadful wail there ever was. your tonsils vibrate so hard i think you're going to scream them right off, and your tear ducts spill over with great big salty tears that splash onto our shoulders and cover your bright red face. we try to soothe you with whispered lullabies and lots of gentle, calming pats, but so often it seems you only need to drain your tears and scream loud enough to alert the president of your overwhelming sorrow. don't worry sweetie, i'm positive he hears you.

next week i will take you to daycare for a few afternoons so you can play with your new friends. i try to be brave for you while we tell you all about ana and her rooms full of toys, but mama's heart hurts so hard at the idea of leaving you with anyone who doesn't know just exactly what part of your neck is the most ticklish or the right way to make the itsy bitsy spider crawl up your legs, under your arms, and straight to your nose. will you know mama still loves you if i'm not the one to cuddle you after your nap? will you take your bottle like a big boy and be nice to your friends? of course you will. of course it will be okay.

on saturday you will be four months old. the other day daddy weighed you on the bathroom scale and the display read 17.8 pounds. when we eat in front of you now, you watch us intently and chomp your gums while you lap loudly with your tongue. there's a really good chance you'll be ready to eat big boy cereal soon, even mama's tea makes you slurp your lips and dive for the cup. you're growing up too fast baby. please slow down.