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Chicken Little

April 22nd, 2011


I just need to write a little about my littlest!  After all, if Kenny had every sneeze documented for his first few years, and Cooper got at least every milestone analyzed and written about, my 11 month hiatus from writing as left my tiny man without many permanent records.  Here is some excerpts from a letter I wrote him when he was 8 months old…

Letter to Charlie, January 17, 2011

Dear Charlie,

My sweet little guy!!   It suddenly occurred to me that I have never blogged about you, and I wanted to write a few things for you, about you.

You are an incredible little person.   It’s hard to begin to describe you.   You are amazing.   Sweet, mellow, fantastic napper, loving, funny and did I say sweet?   I am smitten with you, 100%.  Your smile can light up any face you meet, and people are constantly stopping me and telling me, first, how gorgeous you are, and second, to ask if you’re really always so happy.

You are about to crawl any day, but you can get to most any where you want to go by rolling, scooting and pushing yourself.   To get my attention, you yell, “AH!” but you don’t cry unless there’s a pretty serious reason.  You say, “Da da!” and “BaBa” and make all kinds of other sounds that melt my heart.   Your little voice makes my heart sing.

You have red hair that is so long and shaggy it’s begging to be cut, and piercing blue eyes.   Gorgeous.   Is this embarrassing to read??

Oh, and I have to tell you about the time Daddy and I took you to Las Vegas.   You were about 5 months old and we left Kenny and Cooper with Grammy and Grampy, but took you along because you were still nursing.   It was a total Babymoon!!  Daddy had a bunch of meetings, so you and I hung out and played and rolled around together on the big luxury bed.   I took you swimming for the first time (which you loved) and we walked the fancy shops and in and out of casinos all day.   You were the perfect date.   It was so nice to get away with just you and enjoy you without distraction. My Charlie:

We call you all kinds of funny nick-names: “Charlie Chicken,” “Chicken Bone,” “Tiny Pants,” “Smallest,” “Tiniest of Men,” “Beautiful Guy,” “Charlie Pants,” and all sorts of variations there of.   You were a little chicken bone when you were born: skinny legs that I could easily ring with my thumb and forefinger: but now you are chunk-city.   I love it.   When people comment on your “healthy weight” I always retort with, “Yeah, he could live for a week on his cheeks!” It always gets a laugh.

Last night you had one of your most charming moments ever.   It was past bedtime — about 9 — and Kenny had fallen asleep, but you and Cooper were still awake.   We had accidentally bought a birthday cake for Grammy that had tree nuts in it and after Kenny started reacting, we gave him a huge dose of Benadryl.  I was holding you and came into Kenny and Cooper’s room to check on Kenny, and you and Cooper started talking to each other.   It was hysterical!   You would shout, “DA DA DAAAAA DEEEE DAD ADDA!” and Cooper would imitate you, then you would lunge for him, wrap your arms around his head and kiss him with your mouth wide open and your tongue hanging out.   This would make Cooper squeal and laugh, and then you would laugh and then the whole thing would repeat.   So sweet.

Speaking of kissing, yours are adorable and gross all at the same time.   I love your kisses, even if I need a towel to dry off afterwards.    I love you my Tiny Chicken.   I love you so much it hurts.


Your Mamma

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