dear little boy, who just wants to wrestle.*

Today in the car you told me your back hurt. When I asked you why you said in that low voice of yours, "baby in my tummy, Mom." You crack me up. You are full of motion, your favorite song is "Hark the Herald Angels Sing!" and you enjoy singing it at full volume in awkward locations. You like getting haircuts. You prefer Lowe's to Home Depot. You like pretending your plastic drill is going potty, complete with sound effects.

There is no one like you, Evie.
Love,
Mama
PS. By April, I intend to be able to outrun you. Watch out.
*picture of you coming soon.