Dear Evan:
I’ve told myself I’ll at least write you a letter each week, but I feel like the past couple have been flat. Too often, I think, I snap off a quick letter without connecting it to a larger narrative, or with items hinting at a bigger message but not fully connecting.
Well, buck up, because this week’s letter will be even more scattered.
Part of that is because you are — your mommy and I think — going through a growth spurt. You’re eating more. The 120-ml bottles just don’t do the trick, at least not for a full three-hour rest. More frustrating is that, as your mommy points out, boobs don’t come with a Full-to-Empty gauge. She can usually tell when you’ve been eating and when you’ve just been using her as a pacifier. Usually. Sometimes, we think you’re full, and an hour later you’re restless and making what we’ve learned is the “feed me” face: tongue flickering in and out like a cute snake.
That is, as you can probably imagine when eventually reading this, less than restful in the wee hours of the morning.
On the upside, you learned to smile — for real social smiles — a couple of weeks ago, and are amazingly close to that first laugh. I almost thought I got one yesterday when you smiled and made a “ha-ha” noise, but it was too close to your normal “talking” to tell. When you smile, your eyes crinkle, and your mouth opens and stretches wide, and sometimes you blush and turn your head. It’s ridiculously cute, which leads to a bout of tickling and telling you how cute you are. Heaven help your mommy and me when you’re grown a little and can use that against us.
You got to show off the smile this week to your mommy’s parents, and her sister’s family. Your cousin Asher, in fact, is the closest template we have to how you might turn out — blue-eyed, blond, talkative, social, very intelligent. Again, Heaven help us. Asher is always in motion, and always asking about everything, and if you pause for a second he’s moved on to something else. I make him sound ADD, but he’s not; he’s just into everything. I have a feeling you’ll be the same, the way you goggle over my shoulder or your mommy’s at anything else going on in the area, mouth open and eyes wide with concentration.
One more disjointed thought: I wondered, during my commute to work today, how early we’d be able to influence your… well, not just your personality, but I suppose that’s a good start. I want you to stay happy. I want you to laugh and blush and turn your head. I’m… well, most days I feel older than I am, and grumpy, and disillusioned, and I don’t want you to feel that. I want to strike that balance of teaching you to work hard for yourself while handing to you as much opportunity as I can. More than I had. I need to start doing that now, but haven’t had a chance. It’s frustrating.
Enough of that. The weather has turned beautiful, finally bringing spring to Texas, so here’s to a weekend of smiles from you.
Love,
Daddy
