Ten

Ten.  Chicken Nugget is now ten months old.  Among other things, I'm starting to feel the need to plan a birthday party.  A birthday party that will be for TWO boys, this year.  (Wiggle Man and Nugget's birthdays are nine days apart, so I'm totally planning the double birthday party for as many years as the boys will let me get away with it.)

But, before I get ahead of myself, here's a message to my little man:

Chicken Nugget,

You are ten months old.

You've brought joy, sleeplessness, love, amazement, poop, frustration, and more love to our family.

You eat blueberries as fast as your tiny hands can shove them into your mouth.

You eat Cheerios as fast as your tiny hands can shove them into your mouth.

You eat bananas as fast as your tiny hands can shove them into your mouth.

If it's food (or even if it's not) you eat it as fast as your tiny hands can shove it into your mouth.  Once, I caught you trying to eat a stinkbug.

You love your big brother so much it squeezes my heart.

You're a Daddy's boy, and I love that, too.  (Cuz sometimes I get to pee alone that way.)

You totally have the old man look going with your hair.

You cock one eyebrow at me sometimes as if you know something I don't.

You dance like me.  Not very suave, but a lot of head bobbing.

You are super strong for a baby.  Perhaps we should be calling you Clark Kent.

You blow raspberries, and it makes you laugh as much as it does us.

You do not like me cheering loudly at the television.  Or being told, "No."  But I can tell when you're fake crying.

I love you more than I could have imagined.

Kisses,