This is the final paragraph of the letter I wrote Jared a few weeks ago when he turned four months old:
This month I really began to feel a bit wistful about you growing up! I know that may sound crazy since you are only four months old, but it’s true. I feel your baby-ness slipping away from me. As time passes, you are not going to let me hug and squeeze your perfect little baby body and kiss your delightfully sweet baby face five thousand times a day. (Your dad insists that your first words are going to be “No more kisses!) You are going to be a little man and insist that I treat you like one—you’re going to be embarrassed when I kiss you and tell you I love you in front of your friends—you’re going to make me drop you off around the corner from the entrance to school until that sad day that you are driving yourself to school…
Well, that’s enough for this month… I am going to sneak over to your cradle and steal a kiss or two to last me.
Your loving mom.
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