Dear Reese,
You are eleven months old today. And your teeth are killing you. I’ve been saying those lateral incisors are going to come in for the last two weeks. But really, any day now.
(I did have to Google what those teeth are called just now to write that. I just know they are the teeth next to your front two.)
There are some struggle moments today — you nap on my lap this morning, worn out by a bout of tears. But I will take every opportunity to have you sleep in my arms — it’s a rare occurrence as you’ve grown.
In the late afternoon, you grab a stuffed kitty-cat at the cottage and keep hugging it, laying your head on it while playing in the sunroom. It’s so sweet I want to cry.
Love,
Mama