Happy quarter birthday Asher.
I love you.
I love you because of your copious amounts of baby earwax.
It just keeps coming and coming.
I love you because you smell like spoiled milk.
All. The. Time.
You little Acid Reflux spitter upper you.
I love you because when I try bouncing you to sleep, you look up at me and smile and it is clear you are saying, “Lady, no fucking way. I do not go easily into the night.”
And you don’t Asher. You do not go easily into the night.
I love you because you love your froggy blanket so much.
It makes you such a real little boy to have that connection to a piece of material with an animal head sewn on.
I love you because of all that nasty linty gunk that grows between your fingers and toes.
I’m sorry it took me a month or so to realize that crap was there.
I love you because when you want to eat, you have a very specific cry.
Lay. Lay Lay Lay.
I have no idea what language you are speaking, but I get it.
Speaking of milk, I love you because you are such a damn lousy eater.
You are such a lousy eater your daddy is suspicious that you are not his son.
He wonders who I slept with.
We love you despite your poor nursing skills and tendency to kill my milk supply with your GERD issues.
We just love you.
I also love you despite the fact that you look nothing like me.
You look so little like me that I am suspicious you are not my son.
I wonder who your daddy slept with.
I love you because you laugh at all my sound effects.
I love that my sound effects you.
I love that you are ridiculously active and interested in the world.
I hope you stay like that forever.
Except a little less active.
Maybe half, or a third as active would be good.
I love you Asher.
I love you because the dog’s barking just woke you from your nap, and you are talking to yourself in your crib and letting me write this instead of crying Lay Lay Lay.
Okay, Lay now.
I love you.