To my 2nd on his 4th

Happy birthday Sweet Sam (aka Bam, Bamsy B., Monkey Man)!

Tonight as I was putting you to bed, you said this, an obvious echo of my own words: “I’m your baby.  I’ll always be your baby, even when I’m bigger than you.” 

And then you slung your nasty wet “Night-Night” (blanket) into my eye and expressed doubt that there might come a time when you could ever be bigger than me. 

Regardless.  Sam, here are some things that I want you to know, divided into three distinct categories: 




1)      Four things you think I don’t know 
2)      Four things I think you don’t know 
3)      Four reasons I think I know these things 

Part 1:  Four Things You Think I Don’t Know

• I know that you are picking up on everything.  One night when John was making fart noises, I said, “John, no one is enjoying that except you, so please stop or go do it in the privacy of your room because nobody likes that.”  And you responded, “Except Quinn.”  (Quinn is one of John’s best 3^rd grade friends). 

• I know that that you have been trying to make your own “good notes.”  Buddy – I’m so sorry that in your short life, one of the most memorable things for you is getting bad notes sent home in your lunch box.  We’re on our 2^nd preschool partially because of this, and it’s mostly because you are not afraid to be a kid … not scared to be mischievous or even brazen.  The other day when I went to pick you up, you met me with, “I have a good note!”  I was so happy.  And then I saw that your “good note” was two recycled and stapled-together “Pre-K Emergency Contact Info” index cards on which you had written “S     _M      ^A” (Sam) on the back.    

• I know that you don’t use soap when you wash your hands. 

• I know that you sneak candy into your room.

Part 2:  Four Things I Think You Don’t Know

•          Sometimes when you’re sleeping, Dad and I watch TV and fold laundry together and crack up about how little your underwear is.  Dad says things like, “A person with a butt this small is asleep in the other room.”  I almost always have to get up at that point and go kiss your head.

•       Honey pie.  A diet of donuts, chocolate chip granola bars, eggs, graham crackers, rice with “wet” (soy sauce), applesauce, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches without crust, mack and roni "bugs," noodles with Dad’s sauce, chips, crackers, chocolate cereal, chicken nuggets, French fries, candy, deli turkey slices (not the Cajun kind), popcorn, cupcakes, cake, cookies, pie, and ice cream … AIN’T BALANCED.

•       Night-Night is Nasty and your dad has been cutting little pieces of it away at night while you sleep.  Please know, sweet:  I have been begging him not to throw it all away while I saw wood.   Last night, as you and I were lying in your bed talking about how fun your birthday party was, you said, “I broke Night-Night.  I broke his arm.”  I said, “I didn’t know Night-Night had arms.  Does he have legs too?”  After a pause, you said, “Well, he has … ONE.”  (I about peed my pants.) 
  
•            I always tell you that you are my “best” (because you told me that once, I reciprocated, and it has stuck).  The other night, in an effort not to seem too biased, I told you that you are my best and John is my favorite.  You looked at me right in the eyes and said with such conviction: “That’s just not true.”

Part 3:  Eight Reasons I Know These Things (4 x 4 = 8)

• You ARE picking up on everything.  There is a phrase that says, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”  Apparently, you already have your own version of this … if you can’t explain to them, LISTEN & COMMENT.  
  

• Maybe you DO make your own “good notes,” yet your mother sees this as an ability to recognize your own strengths and ignore weaknesses.  Someday you shall have a fabulous resume.  
  

• You could do WAY better at using soap.  Trust me, love:  You do NOT want to get pinworms.  

• You ARE sneaking candy in your room.  You can keep doing that until I'm dead.  There are much worse things you could sneak. 

• We DO crack up at your boxer/briefs.  Honestly, Bubby, they’re hilarious – tiny yet covered in large machinery such as tractors, diggers, and back-hoe loaders.
  

• Your diet DOES leave something to be desired.  Please try some baked fish at least.  
  

• Night-Night IS nasty. But I swear to you that I will not let your dad hack it all away.  I will keep some portion of it (in a smell-proof Ziploc bag).  
  

• As hard as it is, it’s best if you learn this now … everybody’s “BEST” is relative, sweet Sam:  Even mine.  You are my best (favorite?)  at many things (e.g., snuggling, pleasing, noticing), but John is also my best (favorite?) too (e.g., eating, arguing, wondering).  My love is a like a Thanksgiving pie ... and I will always have enough pie (and love) for both you and your brother.  I’m not good at math lovey, but I know this:  My love for y’all can only be multiplied, never divided. 

Those are some things I have wanted to say to you for awhile now, Love.  I have this idea that you will read and understand them better later than you could now, but then again, I have trouble balancing a checkbook and often go left at intersections for no obvious reason. 

Everyone loves you Bamsy ...

But especially ME.

XOX,
Mama