Dear little boy.

You'll be a big brother in just a few months, and already, you're so, so good at this gig. You seem to know what life will teach you over and over: a sibling is the best gift we could ever give you. Daily, you remind us that your "baby sister is coming", and smother my belly in kisses. This little one hit the jackpot in having you to pave the way and look out for her. 

But now, still, you're my little boy. The other day, you came down with a cold and I let you fall asleep next to me on the couch - you in your dinosaur pajama top and your chubby two-year-old feet tucked under my legs. I am still your resting place. You are still my wild. 

Working full time, I ask myself if I'm missing too much. If I've missed too much. If you'll grow up to be a man who wishes he'd had more of his mother's ear, or equates hours spent with amount loved. I hope not. I think not. Instead, you should know well how much you are thought of on commuter trains, in conference rooms, in a home office. 

You and your sister - you should know this. 

your mama

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