Hey there, big guy. Long time, no talk. I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but I've been covering for you quite a bit here in my adult life, and frankly, it's getting old.
Every single thing she learns is our last first. She gave us our last first little toothless grin, and our last first tiny baby cackle. When she took her first steps, I pushed her down because I wasn't ready. I'm kidding, I didn't have to push her. She has two older siblings.
I saw an article the other day titled something like, "How you know you have a spirited child". I laughed out loud and kept scrolling. Let me tell you how I know I have a "spirited" child.
The boy needs a haircut desperately, but I'm worried cutting it off will make him look ten. I swear last week I was zipping a big puffy coat onto his tiny little body, getting a kiss I didn't have to beg for before he toddled away, wider than he was tall.
My Fall decorations were a decent attempt, but they lost their festive effect the first day they were surrounded by discarded toys and papers from school.
Dear Sixteen Year Old Jessie, Adulting is the worst. Parenting is hard. It's not all staying up late with your smokin hot boyfriend and eating peanut butter straight from the jar without getting yelled at like you think it will be.
I told him there were kids in his class who wouldn't have breakfast today, who look forward to going back to school Monday to get a good meal. I told him that is a really good reason to cry. I told him some kids don't have their own mom and dad around to scream at, and that is worth crying about.