Twenty Five Months

Dear Allison,

A few days ago - well, wait it has been over a week since you turned twenty-five months of age. I've written letters to you since, well, since January 17, 2005 - the day that Daddy and I found out we were pregnant. I've written to you about lots and lots of different things, but I found myself wondering this month what I haven't written to you about. I don't know where you are in life when reading this letter,you may have children of your own, maybe you do, maybe you don't. If you do, you may understand how difficult it is to describe an entire existence in a few words. It is hard to describe you, to put you into a group of letters. I think it is more difficult because you are my child - my view of your existence is wrapped heavily in emotion.

So as I sit here thinking of the past month and what I have yet to divulge about you, I think of the funny way you say that things are "cute" or "delicious". I think of how ticklish you really are or how easy it is to make you laugh. I think of Daddy and I mimicking the phrases that you say and the way you say them such as, "I like it!". I think of how for the longest time you awoke each morning looking for Ozzy and how now that has been replaced with the search for Daddy and his jeep. I think of the mornings or afternoons when you awake grouchy and all you want to do is sit and cuddle. I also think of when you are tired, you seem to tumble and fall down much more than normal. I think of the way you hold a doll or stuffed animal. I think of how since birth you have never liked to have a blanket on you while sleeping and how you don't really care to wear "warm" clothing. You tug at the long sleeves of your fall shirts and often manage to get atleast one arm free.

Alllison, you are the child who wraps kitchen utensils in receiving blankets and rocks them to sleep. You are the child that sings jingle bells (your version goes something like this: Jingle bells all the way") in mid October. You are the child that loves ketchup with popcorn. You are the child that will dance with me to mushy songs.

Love,
Mama