There probably won't be as many letters to you on this blog as there were to your sister. You will also wear more hand-me-down clothing than she did, and sometimes you might cry longer than the other two did. I'm sorry, girlie, I guess that comes with being the third child.
I was lamenting that I can't just sit and stare at you like I did with my other babies. We are busier now. A wise friend reminded me that the day will come when The Mister and The Sister will head to school and you and I will spend our days alone. I love that thought.
You are now the ripe old age of one month. You are still bigger than the average two month old. Claire thinks you look like her. Dada thinks you look like me. And I think you look like you. You are every bit as beautiful to me as those other two big kids who fight over who gets to hold you next.
I love you, Hunca Munca.