Dearest Monkey Boy,
HOLY SMOKES, YOU'RE THREE YEARS OLD! I remember bringing you home, wondering how on Earth I was going to care for you, and I must be doing something right. You are strong, smart, gorgeous and hilarious!
I am so proud of you! You can read the words:
Elmo (of course!)
Bob the Builder
and, of course, Dante.
You can count to thirty without repeating, and when someone sneezes, you say "Bless you!" You are incredibly tenacious, and an amazing big brother! Or, at least, your intentions are good. Hahaha! When I tell you I love you, sometimes you answer "thank you" and sometimes, "I love you, too, Mama!"
I am just beside myself with how magical you have turned out to be....I had no idea that such a little boy could have such a grip on my heart. Yes, there are moments where I want to ship you off to Gramma's for the night (if only she lived closer!), but at the end of the day, I feel so incredibly lucky, blessed even, to call you my son.
With more love than I knew existed,