My boy. My Jackson Charles. We mostly call you Jack, but we have so many other names for you. Jackson, Jack, Jackers, Quackers, Jacketter, Jacketty, Goose, Gooski, Gooski Man, Brother Man, Bubby, Buddy, Mister, The Boy, Bubba, Jacketter-Quacketter, Broseph, Chunka, Chubbers - it goes on and on. You respond to your name and smile and passionately clap whenever anyone says "Yay, Jack!"
You're a passionate kid. You're passionate about your emotions - you express anger way more than your sister ever did. You're passionate about food - there has never been a single thing we have put in front of you to eat that you didn't eat with great vigor and delight. I've yet to find something you won't eat. You will not stop eating unless I take food away from you. I can't even say what your favorite foods are because you eat all foods with equal levels of joy and speed.
You're much more of a daddy's boy than a mama's boy - you do love me and you say my name but if you even hear your daddy's voice your run to him. And if he can't pick you up or play with you at that exact moment, you are heartbroken. You smile and clap and play with me when I come to get you out of your crib in the mornings. You reach up and then pat me on the back when I pick you up. You are a good sleeper and usually go to bed around 7 and wake up in the mornings around 6:30. You have a musical, mechanical mobile in your crib that has little fishies that swim and turtles and waves - we call it your "show." Sometimes you lean up and push the button and turn on your show all by yourself in the middle of the night. We'll hear the music over the monitor and you just lay there and watch the crabs move.
You're starting to love Mickey Mouse, specifically the Hot Dog Dance, which is exactly what your sister was loving at this age. You like climbing stairs, banging on "drums" and letting your daddy throw pillows at you. You laugh when I put on my sunglasses and are constantly stealing everybody's drinks and claiming them as your own. You love playing with and throwing balls and pushing the buttons on the printer in Daddy's office. You love yelling, it's one of your favorite pastimes.
Let's talk for a minute about you and your sister. You love her and she loves you. Y'all are 3.5 years apart, but you really do play together. You play ball, you let her put blankets on your head - she crawls in your crib early in the mornings and you jump and play. You clap for her and she claps for you. She gets so excited when you walk to her. Sometimes your hugs turn into a tumble and you end up with tears - but I don't really think you mind.
I love your sweet face. Your tiny nose, your chubby hands, your fat feet. Your silly teeth. Your sticked-up-hair. I love that yesterday for the first time in about 6 months you fell asleep on me in the living room for no reason whatsoever. When you allow yourself to calm down and not be so busy, you really are a snuggle bug.
I got emotional tonight, putting you in your crib. Tomorrow I'll have a one year old. No more baby. You're a big boy. A big boy who no longer drinks from a bottle, who eats everything we eat (and then some), a big boy who walks and climbs and makes his voice and his opinions heard - even if he doesn't have the words yet.
I'm so, so thankful for you. I didn't even know how much I wanted you, how much I needed you. You make me proud and happy. You make me more disciplined and intentional and purposeful. Being your mommy is an absolute joy. A privilege.You make me laugh (HARD) every single day. Your faces and your angry sounds - it's just too much sometimes. Your little lips and the "mmmm" sound you make when you lean in for a kiss - I melt.
Baby boy, I love you with my whole heart. You're the sweetest and I thank God every day for choosing me to be your mommy.
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