Dear Tiny,
I'm reading a book of essays about raising a boy and I have to admit, I'm a little intimidated! Are you going to come out of the womb demanding a fire truck and set of firearms? I will love you no matter what but maybe you will also like books and want to learn how to bake cookies and maybe do some arts and crafts?!
The little kid stuff is not as scary to me, though, as imagining you as a teenager. I told Dad he has to have all the Official Talks with you. Also, please clean up your dirty socks. (I feel that I have to start saying that now to set a precedent...). I hope you know that I can't wait to still smother you with a million embarrassing kisses in public. I will secretly find it hilarious! You dude, you!
Love,
Mama
P.S. No football. Sorry champ, I've read too many Malcolm Gladwell articles for your own good. You can watch the Packers from the sidelines and choose a sport with less concussions.
