I love to think about the day you were born. I love remembering how excited papa was, how eager we were to meet you, how perfectly perfect it was to do all of our time before you came at home together. I love how jamin knew just who you were when he saw you for the first time. "hi, bean," he greeted you, as if you had just been hiding in another room all this time rather than growing in utero. I love how you didn't have a name for two days while we got to know you better. I have trouble remembering your tininess or your quietness, but if I squint my mind's eye I can see that, too.


cora, your brother loves you. you are totally crazy about him: that is clear to anyone who sees the two of you together. you hold his hand to walk up for the children's sermon in church and then lean your body into his as you sit listening together. you echo his choices in just about every category, even when he chooses things he knows you don't like. you guys fuss and squabble like kids do, but I want to be sure you know that kid loves you very much. jamin saved and saved to buy you a birthday gift. granted it was something he happened to want very much for himself, but I do think his intentions were good ones. after a little surprise monetary gift from aunt gini and uncle gary, he had exactly enough and he was the proudest kid that toy store has ever seen. he picked ribbons for the bow that he thought you would love. he hid the gift in your closet and made a treasure map to lead you to it, first thing on your birthday morning. he even drew you in various locations on the map because he was not sure where you would be when he gave it to you. and of course you loved his gift, a playmobil covered wagon so that you can play laura ingalls together. you told everyone all day it was the best gift you got. I think the two of you together are probably the best gift, but I am totally biased.


yours for superhero days and turtles at bedtime and everything in between,
mama