Dear Binja:

First and foremost, I need to apologize.  This month’s newsletter is sloppily thrown together, banking on your cuteness to carry it through, and probably severely disjointed.  Point is: so’s your mom. 

I feel repetitive speaking about this again, but if the point is for you to grow up and only know our history together through these newsletters, it must be mentioned here or you’ll never know it.  Binja, your mom went crazy.  Or at least, she thought she did.  As they say in the cajun world, “She done dropped her basket.”

But the bottom line is this: your mother loves you more than the sky is blue.  Loves you to the moon and back.  And finds you in no way responsible or even part of her problems.  You are the light of the world.  Concluding maudlin portion of the newsletter… NOW.

***

You found your tongue this month.  That doesn’t sound exciting to us grown-folk, but MYLORD, you act as if this toy is the best thing that God could’ve ever given you.

And if it’s not your tongue, your hands are in your mouth.  Making very weird, very loud sloppy sucking noises, the kind you make when you’re making out in sixth grade with that guy in seventh grade who has braces and you keep some distance so his metal bands don’t cut your inner lip.  So I’ve heard.

***

You are slowly finding your expressions, and it SLAYS your father and I.  You’ve been smiling for awhile now.. and yes, it still gets us.

But you’ve also started frowning, which is hysterical on a little pudgy baby.  By far, however, our favorite is the “You Are the Worst Parents Ever” look, as witnessed here:

And here:

And here.

But that’s okay.  It keeps us honest.  We keep you honest, too.

***

I love hearing all of the funny stories you bring home from daycare.  You really love all of the other babies in there with you.  You and Ethan hold hands on occasion, and one day, your Aunt Nina told me that you had a new girlfriend in the class.  You picked the baby who looks most like you, the baby that I accidentally take home some days, and I would love to tell you that everytime the infant room does a bulletin board with the cute baby faces I know EXACTLY which one’s you, but most of the time I pick your girlfriend.  I DON’T KNOW WHY.

Anyway, you were happily sucking on your hand next to your girlfriend one day, and then decided to be all, you know what? this is too much work for one little tongue, and you PLOPPED! your hand into her mouth.  For her to suck.  For you.  You are suck a freakin’ pimp, I can’t stand it.

And when the daycare had an emergency evacuation and you all were piled in evacuation cribs like sardines, the baby next to you began crying.  And you, WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, decided to make him feel better by rubbing his head.  Everyone says “Aww, what a sweet baby,” but I know the truth.  I know you are plotting to take over the world in your cuteness.  Your evil does not escape me, baby.

Luckily for you, you’ve got two incredibly persuading men to hold you back.  You’re welcome.