I am a huuuuge football fan. It’s one of the many reasons why autumn is my favorite season — prime ACC football and NFL season. I’m a fanatic. I’m one of those yell-at-the-referees-even-though-they-clearly-can’t-hear-me-through-the-television people. Luckily, my love for football seems to be genetic. And also it’s highly encouraged by The B’s. They’re big Giants fans. I’ve forgiven them for that because I’m a good person.
You are already a pigskin fan. I still remember the day J sent me the text telling me that you had learned to say, “touchdown.” So proud.
Unfortunately, the rules of football seem to be eluding you. But seeing as you are only two years, two months and one day old (but who’s counting?), you have time to learn. Here’s your first lesson: face mask penalties are bad and generally considered illegal. And by generally, I mean always. Why is this your first lesson?
This is why.
P.S. — You’re adorable.
I am sick.
I’m a highly pitiable sick person too. When I talk, it sounds like I’m holding my nose – which I’m not. However if I don’t hold my nose, it runs like a faucet (delightful visual, I know.) I have been detained to my couch per the request of The Boyfriend. I am wrapped up in blankets, alternating between drinking tea and ice water, waiting for mac n’cheese to cook. My bedside table looks like the Cold & Flu aisle of a CVS. It’s delightful.
Today, two hours away, you received your first, “Liam, get out of my room!” from Sports Man. So while I’m deciding whether to take NyQuil or Theraflu, you’re having your first “brother” moment. I heard about it from J, but I can only imagine the real deal. I can almost hear it from here.
Our lives may be a little different right now, but I’m always thinking of you. And if I’m not thinking of you, it because the NyQuil has kicked in. But that’s not my fault.
Me sick. So not as cute. And so not a flattering picture.
Ending this letter with a picture of you because you’re so much more adorable than me :) You make me proud of 50% of my DNA.
Little Man is sharing one of his letter from me with you! So I just wanted to say, keep your chins up. We (the birth moms) are hoping to find you just as you’re hoping to find us. You are not alone.
Check it out this beautiful and inspirational post by Infertility Awakening: Duck, Duck, Swan :)
Strong woman, beautiful writer, destined to be an amazing mother. I’m sure all of you potential adoptive moms out there can relate to the former…and certainly the latter.
Renee and Little Man
The stats for your two-year check up are here! Well…like a week ago or so. But you should still know that at 2-years-old you are…
- 36 inches tall (Three feet. THREE. Stop it.)
- 34.6 pounds (They recommended The B’s cut down on your portion sizes…I say there is no such thing as too many “dot dogs”)
- You are in the 75th percentile for height and the 95th percentile for weight. You overachiever you :)
Your measurements (you were 95th percentile for height!) when you were a little over two months old. Also, STOP GETTING BIGGER.