My dear little Camden,

I’m sorry, but can you stop growing up please?  One minute you’re struggling to crawl and the next you’re running full speed ahead.  Each month I am amazed at how much you have grown, how much you have changed.  This past month has been no different.    A few weeks ago we took you to Athens for the annual G-Day Game. At this point, it’s still very new to you, but the three of us have now gone two years in a row and it’s already becoming a family tradition…one that we hope to continue for years to come.  While we didn’t watch much of the game at all, we did enjoy a perfect day.  You tried dippindots for the first time (one of my all-time personal favorites), you picked out your very own UGA backpack and made it clear that while your daddy liked one Georgia t-shirt, you did not.   We chose to head to North Campus so you could run to your heart’s content…but you, you opted to skip the grassy knoll and head straight to the law school library steps.  (Your daddy was pretty proud.)

We see more and more of you personality coming out every single day….including that temper of yours.  But you also have one of the most loving personalities ever…hugging your classmates when you say goodbye and always blowing kisses.  If this is any indication of the boy you’ll become, then I’ll be the luckiest mommy ever.

Just like any other 21 month old your vocabulary is growing by leaps and bounds.  The words that you attempt are both hilarious and impressive.  Some you say with ease, some you stumble over, but still make every effort to say.  Airplane, please, Elmo and hippo roll off the tongue, but Auntie Jenn and helicopter continue to give you some trouble.  You continue to try though.  And in no time you’ll be speaking in full on sentences…(a thought that amazes and scares me).  We’ve settled into a pretty great routine too.  You and I get home, feed the doggies, then head right back outside to play “bubbles” and “backetball”.  And while you don’t actually do anything bought dip the wand into the bubble container and wave it around, that thing is becoming something of a bit of a “wubby” to you. One you hate to part with.  And your “backetball” is actually just a tennis ball, but you don’t care because why would you?  It’s a ball.  That you can throw.  And that’s truly all that really matters.

You sleep with your favorite stuffed animals every night including Mr. Blue, (a talking) Elmo, UGA, Paddington (which you also attempt to say), and Augustus (your new teddy bear from the Masters).  You ask for them by name and are happy as a clam to lay down beside them.  And before we say goodnight you always say “toes” to let us know you want the blanket to cover your feet.

But the one thing that kills me is that you’re pretty much over your high chair. You’ve been sitting on a pile of books in a big boy chair at the kitchen table to eat your meals.  When I look over and see you sitting there, I’m blown away at how far you’ve come.  Just a few short months ago you were sitting in a Bumbo testing out solids and today you’re eating hummus and yogurt and quesadillas and steak and taking the blender out of the pantry so I’ll make you a mango/strawberry smoothie.  You’re a little boy now.  You’re our little boy.  And while the thought of you growing up scares me, I look forward to the wondrous things in store.

I am beyond words lucky to have you as my son.  And I count my lucky stars every single day.

I love you,

Mommy.