Brody. There’s no rhyme or reason to this post. It’s not your birthday. I don’t have a reason to write a post about you right now, except for the fact that you are basically everything. You’re in this phase where you can do no wrong, even though you are such a shit most days. You get into trouble, yet can somehow get away with it just by smiling at me or your dad. You’ve got us wrapped around your finger. Tightly wrapped, that is.
Tonight at bed time you made us laugh so hard. Griffin was being put into his pajamas; which he was fighting against. I was putting him into his Mickey soft-footed pajamas that I purchased for our trip to Disneyland. I was sure he would love said pajamas, but he doesn’t. Come to find out he hates the little rubbery knobs on the bottom of his feet that prevent him from slipping. Hates them… something fierce. But I forced him into the pajamas anyway. He was crying… and through his tears he said, “Mawwwm, I don’t wanna wear deez! People will wook at me, and dey will waugh at me!” I responded, “Griffy, nobody is going to laugh at you. I just need you to wear these thick jammies because your room gets so cold at night.” He continued to cry, and wailed again that people would laugh at him. On cue, you appeared, and you pointed at him and laughed. It was a fake laugh. Like you were a 15 year old taunting your brother for his outfit on picture day. It was perfection.
Your brother continued wailing… and then you chased him, pointing your finger and laughing your fake evil laugh, and he cried harder… because he’s sensitive like that. Your dad and I laughed, too. Riotously. It wasn’t the right move to make as a parent. We should have protected Griffin from you and your incessant teasing, but we didn’t. We laughed hysterically at your comedic timing, but more so at your shit-headed-ness.
I’m proud of you, my love. You’re going to get far in life.
Love,
Mom.
Photo Credit :: Janelle Addis Photography
So adorable.