A message from Mommy

Will,

Last weekend Daddy and I went on our first out of town trip without you. Yes, it took us 21 months to work up the courage to leave you for the weekend. We traveled to this fun little town called Las Vegas. (Note for future refrence: Kids aren't allowed to go to Vegas. They have a rule there that you have to be 25 or older to get in and you have to bring your mom with you the first time you visit. I know it sounds silly, but I don't make the rules, so if you don't like them, take it up with the Vegas people.) We went there to attend Aunt Steph and Patrick's wedding. It was also the second anniversary for Daddy and I. I won't go into all of the other birthdays and anniversaries that take place on October 18th, but one day when you're older and you've got all day, we'll talk. Anyway, the wedding was beautiful and we had a wonderful time hanging out with all of the family. It was a nice weekend and a great celebration for all of us.

I have to confess, however, I missed you like crazy. Thinking about it now even after I've been home for a week, makes me ache a little. You stayed the weekend with Aunt Gigi and Chelsea and had a blast hanging out with them. You were a brave boy and didn't cry for Mommy or Daddy once. I, on the other hand, bawled my eyes out a few times and insisted to Daddy that we should probably be heading home now. (By the time you are old enough to read this and understand, you will have known me long enough to know that I'm a bit of a sap and just every now and then am completely and utterly unreasonable.) When Daddy and I called you at night, you would get on the phone and shout "Mommy" and then proceed to say "Night night. Love you." I know you're probably thinking that doesn't sound like any reason to pack my bags and catch the next flight home, but you said those words in that sweet sleepytime voice of yours, at which point I turned to mush and melted into a puddle in the floor. And since I don't want you to think I'm some sort of weepy weakling that breaks down in tears when it's time to move you up to the next shoe size, I think it's only fair and right to rat your dad out now and tell you that he melted into a puddle once too. And no, my saying this about your father does not mean that tattling is cool and you should start doing it, I'm just trying to prove a point. That's just how sweet your voice is.

I've basically told you all of this to say, we won't be leaving you for any longer than a night at a time from here on out. Mommy's poor heart can't stand to be away from you for more than 24 hours, I'm afraid. So, I hope you like your room, because I may force you to live there until you're 30. Don't worry, we'll get rid of the crib and spring for you a new big boy bed before then.

I love you!

Your sometimes emotional and oftentimes crazy,
Mommy