On being a month old

My Littler Prince,

Oh, I can’t tell you how much I had forgotten about newborns.  The sounds.  The movements.  The smells – some good, some bad.  And all of it amazing.

It was shortly after the turning of the years that you decided to become a resident of the Kingdom.  It was a stormy night, dark yes but not foreboding, at the end of a stormy week.  You gave voice to your displeasure at having been forced from your previous home but quickly settled into contentedness again once you were cradled in the Queen’s arms.  Your big brother joined us all on the bed to marvel at your newness, your wild red hair, your tiny toes, and your perfection.  Our family had grown by one.

A month.  Where did the time go?  Chaotic days and interrupted nights but that’s nothing new.  That’s business as usual in the toddlerocracy.  You are growing like a weed, just like your brother did (and still does).  You are snuggly and squirmy and calm and noisy and gassy and sleepy and wide-eyed with wonder at the great world around you.  That’s the kingdom, by the way.  It isn’t perfect but it’s close and it is yours.  Yours and your brothers.

And, I can’t really say everything I want to, without some unfair comparisons to your big brother, the Little Prince.  You are angelic to his current phase of energetic destructiveness.  You have slept more in your first four weeks than he did in his first four months.  You can be put down and will happily squirm on your own where he still needs constant interaction if we don’t want him to pull down the house around us.  Unfair, I know.  I’m likely exaggerating his start to life here in the Kingdom and, regardless, you too will step up to rule the toddlerocracy one day.

Just as we will always love your big brother, despite his determination to send us closer and closer to the edge of sanity, we will always love you too.  Nothing could ever change that truth.  Nothing.  Not even when you won’t sleep in the middle of the night and I walk the hallways singing every song I know the words to, lullaby or not – you seem to like Janis Joplin, and you refuse to shut your eyes which is all it would take for you to fall back asleep.  You’ve got your parents’ stubbornness in you.  That’s good.  That will serve you well as you rise to power.  There is nothing you can’t achieve.  I may just be a Jester, but you have come from greatness all the same and you will be greater still.

Love you,

Your Daddy, Jester of the Matticus Kingdom

24 thoughts on “On being a month old

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