Dear Calvin,
It's time I reveal your secret. You are a tiny hoarder. Every night after you go to bed I clean up your toys. Every night while cleaning up your toys I always come up short. Why am I only finding 7 Legos? I'm missing both elephants in Noah's Arc. Didn't I hand out three spatulas today? I can usually find the missing toys crammed into Noah's Arc, stuffed in your play mailbox, in your Halloween pumpkin. Anything that opens, you have filled it with toys. Yesterday, while playing in the basement you wouldn't stop banging on the bathroom door. As soon as I opened the door you ran to the vanity and inside was a basketball, more Legos, a zebra, pacifier, and one of Jack's toys. At least you are remembering where you are stashing your treasures.
Dear Luke,
I love your little hands. I love when you clap. I love when we high five. I love when they give me the "bro pat" when we hug. (I'm your mom, start giving me real hugs. Thanks.) I love watching them cram goldfish crackers in your mouth. What I don't love are banana hands. Banana hands only want to touch my hair. They coat my (usually unclean but that's besides the point) hair with slimy banana. Maybe next time your hair would like a banana conditioning treatment? For now, mine is all set.
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