Isaac,
Winter’s here again, and with it comes your nice warm orange coat! I find myself thinking of you less and less as a baby and more and more as a little boy. Your walking’s getting better and better, especially in your giraffe shoes – and by the way, have I mentioned your first official word? It was “Hello”. Swiftly followed by iddleiddleiddleardledardledardle, but nonetheless, your first official word! We’ve always asked each other “did he just say…?” – and lately the answer’s usually yes. You’re babbling more, and the sounds are more like words now.
Unfortunately, along with the words, you’ve found another use for that purty mouth of yours…and it involves trying to turn your nursery friends into snacks. We keep having to sign forms to affirm that you’ve maimed another child during the day. I feel like one of those parents that gets interviewed on the news outside the courts – “Whatever he’s done, Isaac’s my child and I love him. He didn’t mean to firebomb that post office, he’s just misunderstood”. We’ll have to start calling you the Mallard’s Wood Mauler.
We don’t see that bitey side of you at home. We see the affectionate boy who brings you his favourite book (currently Up! Or Maisie’s Party) and climbs into your lap so you can read it to him. We see the clever little man who takes the keys out of the drawer and goes to the front door to put them in the keyhole. We see the cheeky monkey who pulls Mummy’s cardigan over his head and goes toddling around the room to entertain his audience. We see our beautiful son who makes us fall in love with him a little bit more every day. In fact we can’t bring ourselves to believe you could have such a vicious side…which is probably how all the best serial killers start their careers.
Love,
Daddy
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