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Dear Tate,

On Monday, Valentine’s Day, you turned eight weeks old. Can time really be going by so quickly? I feel like it’s impossible, but every day you are growing and changing, so I suppose the clock is ticking away. About two weeks ago you really smiled for the first time. Not a smile signifying a burp is headed my way or that you just pooped your pants, but a real, live smile. And now, a few short weeks later, you’re full on laughing. Squealing and giggling and hiccuping away like the happy little dude that you are.

In the last month you’ve grown from fragile newborn and are showing signs of the kid you are going to become. You’re extremely laid back, hardly ever fussy (knock on wood SO HARD DARNIT!) and spend your days eating, sleeping, pooping and smiling. You are definitely a mama’s boy, which is understandable since I’m the primary person with you most of the day. I know the smart thing to do would be to leave you with a sitter or a friend a couple hours here and there to get you used to it, as full time daycare starts in 3 weeks, but so far, my selfish butt hasn’t been able to do it. My daily time with you is coming to an end, so I’m wanting to spend as much of it as possible with you. I’m sure we’ll both regret this someday…

Everyone who knows you, little Tater Tot, has a richer life because you are a part of it. You make even strangers in the grocery store smile and coo, and invite way too many unknown guests to poke their heads into your carseat and “get a good look at the baby.” You tend to take these surprises in stride, smiling at strangers and making everyone’s day a little bit brighter with your toothless grin.

I am so lucky to know you, Tate. To be such a huge part of your life is a honor and such a pleasure. I can’t wait to watch you grow up, my lovely, little man. My Valentine.

Love,
Mama