Extra Ebbyting

Dear Hagen,

We'll be going on a trip to Florida and Georgia in a few weeks to visit with your southern grandparents and other assorted relations. The last time we were there, you were a barely-walking baby and you hadn't yet come into your own, so I thought it would be best if we warned everyone of some of your fun quirks before we arrive.

On occasion, someone will ask me how my boy child and my girl child are different. I always explain it by saying, "If I had handed Laney Object A and Object B, she'd have invented a relationship between them. She'd have Object A and Object B talk to each other, then she'd make up a song about their history, and would finally perform an interpretive dance to really sell Object A's devotion to Object B. Now, if you were to hand Object A and Object B to Hagen, his first move would be to beat the tar out of Object A with Object B, until Object A was just a pile of wooden shrapnel. Then, he'd look up and smile at you and declare: PIXED IT!!!"

"Pixed it" is still big around here, as is the post-pixed, "WHAT 'OPPENED?!?" Related: "Is BOKEN!"And if it's boken and can't be pixed with a hammer, doubtless it needs new barries (a.k.a a Duracell or two).

You have an artistic streak about 3 feet wide, which is the same width as the kraft paper I've hung around the perimeter of our living room in self-preservation. You like to draw on the walls like none other, so I assume I'll be taking this paper down around the time that you enter junior high school.

Just this morning, I learned that in the time it takes me to leave the room to answer the phone and have a brief conversation with my boss, you can color the lower half of your face with a red magic marker and steal a pile of cookies off the kitchen counter.

Yes. Yes to the question, "Does that young'un ever wear clothes?" My boss asked me that question today when I sent him that picture on the bottom as a way of explaining my normal work environment. You wear lots of clothes. In fact, these pictures were taken at 9:00am this morning, in between wardrobe changes 2 and 3...outfit #1 was the victim of a overburdened diaper, and outfit #2 was coated in maple syrup, which reminds me of another of your favorite words: 'affle! (for "waffle.") I thought your teachers were miracle workers, because you always came home without a spot of lunch on you, 'til I showed up at your school one day at lunchtime and you were happily eating away, shirtless. SEE? Even professionals have given up. 

Speaking of your school, there's a sheet of notebook paper taped to the wall of your school's kitchen with dietary notes on each child: Sawyer can't have dairy. Mira shouldn't have wheat. Hagen likes extra everything.

Your favorite sentences include, "No, Yaney! Is mine!" and from the bottom of the stairs most mornings at 5:58 a.m., "YANEY!!! 'ERE AH YOU???" Yeah, we moved you into a big boy bed last month, which means that when you wake up at the crack of dawn, you're free to roam about the cabin. Just yesterday, I woke up to a toy fire engine being run up and down my mattress while you yelled "WEE-YU! WEE-YU WEE-YU!" in your best siren impression. 

One of the things your dad and I get the biggest kick out of lately is how you'll just start talking in huge run-on sentences...at least we think they are, because we can't understand a dang word you're saying. But after jabbering at us very sincerely for a few minutes, you always end your rants by throwing your arms wide and yelling, "...and EBBY-TING!" "And 'everything?'" we ask. "YEAH!"

You like puzzles and books and sharing half of every plate with Ella the dog. You like hugs and snuggles and high fives. We know the moment you've accomplished something, no matter how small, because you scream out, "I DID IT!!!" There is nothing cuter in this world than when you tear through the house in your footie pajamas, or when you climb to the top of the stairs just so you can walk up to my desk and say clear as a bell, "Hi, Mama."

I can't wait for them to see you. 

Love,

Mom