Dear Matthew:

This letter is really late. Our days blur by together so much now and it’s hard to see where your new talents start - sometimes I look at you and it’s like you’ve always been pointing urgently asking “Ah dah?” (meaning in Matthewese, “What’s that and why can’t I have it RIGHT NOW MAMA?”)

A few notable events: your 18 month well baby visit went well. You’re no longer above the 100th percentile for weight, you are at a respectable 97th percentile. You are on track developmentally and even gave Dr. Lewis a hug. I got you a set of sized 2T/24 mos sleeper pajamas back in October and already they are too tight. For the longest time it seemed you’d have quite a bit of room to grow into them and now, already, too tight. You are a tall and stocky little boy, definitely not a baby (but don’t tell your Baba I said that).

You’re growing 4 new teeth right now and I think that should do it until your 2 year molars come in. Your sleep has been touch and go for a few weeks now, so either it’s because of the teeth or because you’re developing so fast in your brain that you can’t contain it all and have to share your crankiness with us. I am waiting for you to poop out an opera.

We went to Florida for Christmas and you had a blast, despite the grueling days of travel that bookended our trip. You were spoiled like crazy and I suspect this trend will continue. I ended up being really sick, and it was hard - I couldn’t hold you or take care of you, especially on New Year’s Eve. It scared me, and I want you to know I am here for the long haul. As soon as I finish up this round of being sick, I promise I am going to take better care of myself so you and I will get to know each other well when I am 90 and you are 60 and we’ll both be scouting out nursing homes together. Promise?

Love,
Mama

Month 18 on Flickr