Inspirations from cheese in a can. joey, kelly, danny, and charlie

Dearest Danny Bobby,

Your days as an only child are numbered. All of us at the Rutledge Ranch have mixed emotions about this, I’m sure. Well, not you, at the moment, probably, but I think you will. We’ve been trying to explain to you about baby sister for a few months, but since you still lift your own shirt in response to the question: “Where is your baby sister?” we’re thinking perhaps you haven’t entirely grasped the concept. These last weeks have been and will continue to be tricky for me, because I want you to have full benefit of your last days as our one and only, but I am usually cranky, often uncomfortable, and usually sleep-deprived. I thank you for the fact that the sleep deprivation has little to do with you; the blame for that can be placed squarely at the feet of your baby sister, where it will remain for at least another year, I’m sure.

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In the last few weeks, you have shown off the dazzling results of your language explosion. You make sentences that sometimes people that don’t live here can even understand. You’ve just about mastered “pwease,” “thank YEW,” “yessum” and “yessuh.” These phrases will get you far. They have already earned you far more chocolate than is appropriate for a child your age. And when answer a question with: “Yessum, mama,” it is very difficult not to pick you up and squeeze your little guts out while gnawing your ears off, but so far I have resisted.

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Your favorite activities include: disassembling the sectional sofa, harassing the shit out of the dogs (sorry, Emmett), climbing and then jumping off of things, riding the scooter with Daddy, drinking my coffee, and anything at all that happens outside. Except maybe snow…..apparently you were not very impressed with the white, wet mess that disrupted our adorably southern state this past weekend. You love to have a friend over, so you can say to them: “Fah me!” which is how you invite them to trail along behind you. In the absence of a friend, you invite the dogs, or me or your father. When we’re playing, you’ll often be taken by a inspiration, hold up your hand, and say “Back, mama!” meaning that I’m to stay and wait for you to return with something that suddenly has become critical to our play.

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Not to put too fine a point on your bathroom habits for the world at large, but last week, you hit a milestone for which you were rewarded with an obscene amount of M&M’s, or the amount that your grammy normally gives you for blinking. I stopped just short of calling everyone I know and announcing it on all my social networks, but I definitely recognized the pride and hope that leads people to do that.

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I think that right now you are destroying something in my and Daddy’s bedroom, so I’ll close for now. You are adorable; thanks for being you.

Love,
Mama