Letters to our sons | June

Sarah Davis June 16, 2014

***I am so thankful to be a part of this blog circle "Letters to our Sons" with so many amazing photographers and moms. In honor of our love for our little boys, we are posting a monthly image(s) along with a corresponding, heartfelt letter. After reading my post, please click HERE to continue around the circle, starting with the ultra talented Jill Cassara.

Dearest Cash,

This past Sunday was 75 degrees, sunny and without a cloud in the bright, blue sky. It was the perfect day to take you to your first baseball game at Yankee Stadium. I surprised you and Dad with tickets to the 1:00 game against the Minnesota Twins for Father's Day and I'm not sure who was more excited. Since Derek Jeter, one of the greatest MLB shortstops and Yankees heroes of all time is retiring after this season, Dad wanted to make sure you were both properly outfitted and ordered two matching #2 final season commemorative logo t-shirts, one big and one small.

The morning of the game the first thing you did was put on your Yankees hat (you were already wearing your t-shirt since you wanted to sleep in it the night before) and run around the apartment saying, "I'm going to my first Yankees game today!"

"Can I hold my own ticket Mom?"

"Can I bring my baseball glove?"

"You should bring your binoculars?" I said back.

Even though we live close enough to the stadium that we could have walked there if we wanted, we rode the D train two quick stops to 161st Street. You were thrilled (as usual) to be taking the subway and even more so to be heading uptown for a change to the Boogie Down Bronx!

When we got to our seats in section 316 of the terrace and to the right of home plate, the baseball diamond was being groomed and players were in the outfield stretching and warming up. You and I had fun watching all of this while Dad went to wait in the (long) line for cheeseburgers, french fries and soda. No doubt we had to have some good 'ole stadium grub. That's the whole fun of it.

Your binoculars came in handy, especially when Derek Jeter was up to bat. And when you weren't using them, Dad had fun teaching you the ins and outs of the game. You were so excited every time there was a strike against a Minnesota player and cheered wildly with the crowd whenever a Yankee got a hit. But in all honesty there came a point where all you cared about was getting some ice cream in a Yankees batting helmet bowl.

Dad disappeared to get the goods, and that's when the game's biggest action happened. First, Derek Jeter had a huge hit into the outfield, making it all the way to second base. Then the next two batters helped bring in the Yankees only two runs of the game and the crowd went absolutely crazy. But poor Dad! He came back with the ice cream having missed it all.

As the innings wore on, your three year-old attention span started to wane and you became antsy in your seat. At one point you were sitting on Dad's lap having a laugh with him when I captured this image with my camera phone. I love this photo because you can see how happy Dad is being at a Yankees game with his son. He often tells me that despite growing up in New York, his father never took him to a Yankees game when he was a young boy. Because of this, he made a promise that if he ever had a son he would take him to Yankee Stadium in the summer to watch baseball and eat hot dogs and ice-cream.

Even though around the 6th inning you were a complete goof-off and the Twins blew out the Yankees after getting six runs in the 9th inning, Dad was just happy to be with you at the game on such a beautiful day. I have no doubt there will be many more Yankees games for the two of you in the future, and most likely your little brother too. But this was the first. I mean, how cool is that?!

We left just before the ninth inning was over to beat the crowd and took the D train home. For you, taking the subway to the stadium and back were the bookend highlights to a wonderful day with your Dad. I was so grateful to be able to spend the afternoon with you both, sharing in the "firstness" of it, and of course, to take photos that we can look back on as time passes.

I love you son, my little Bronx Bomber, always & forever.

Mom

Letters to our sons | May

Sarah Davis May 16, 2014

Dearest Cash,

I think I am coming to terms with it - finally. It's been almost six weeks since your first major haircut - "major" being the key word to describe not only how much Daddy chopped off but also the kind of reaction I had afterwards. The night before you were to have your preschool photo taken, I asked Daddy to give you a "shape up". Translation: Take a little off the top and clean up the sides around the ears. Daddy had given you a shape up before, so I just assumed this time would be the same. Off I went to put your baby brother down to sleep for the night, while Daddy sat you on a stool in the bathtub and got the clippers ready. Yes, the clippers.

About ten minutes later I walked past the bathroom and saw your hair was cut down to a "fade" of sorts. Thinking it was close to being too short, I warned Daddy who assured me he was just cleaning up the spots that were too low because you kept moving your head. It didn't take long however, for Daddy's promise to break into a million little pieces. I walked out of Grey's room, past the bathroom and caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of my eye. You were still seated on the stool smiling, as if to say, "Hey Mommy! Look at my new haircut!" My stomach just dropped and I Instantly burst into tears. You were nearly bald. You looked like you were suffering a terminal illness or had survived the squalid conditions of a child labor internment camp - and as your mother, I wasn't prepared for the shock. Even writing this now I almost feel sick all over again. With your glorious curls gone, replaced by a super low crew cut - I was definitely in a state.

"What happened?!!

Why did you cut it so short?

Oh My Gosh!! What happened?!!"

Daddy said it was because you moved your head and there was a huge bald spot that could only be fixed by cutting it all off. Really?!! I would have much preferred a bald spot over a full on shearing! But not wanting you to feel insecure in any way about your new coif, I fought to get control of my emotions. I walked out of the bathroom, closed the door behind me and went into the bedroom and cried.

I managed somehow to find the words to tell you that I liked your new haircut, that you looked amazing and beautiful -although I'm sure you hardly believed me. Daddy took you to your room to read you a bedtime story while I took a deep breath and went back into the bathroom. Your hair was everywhere - all over the floor, behind the toilet, in the tub. I got down on my knees, tears streaming down my face, and started sweeping them up - saddened by how quickly the garbage can was filling up with your beautiful baby curls that had taken so long to grow.

That night after you had fallen asleep, I snuck in your room to just look at you. I stayed in there for God knows how long. Who was that little boy lying there? My greatest wish was that when you woke up the next morning your hair would have grown - that you would have your little afro back.

I realize that a major factor in my devastation was that my first baby was no more. This new haircut instantly made you like you were ten years old, not three. When I shared this story with some of the other moms at your school the next day, they were a total comfort. "Was this his first big haircut?" one mother asked. When I said it was, she shook her head and said, "Of course, that makes complete sense. That first big haircut can be really hard for us [moms]. And Dads just don't get it."

The fact that the following day was school picture day was just the nail in the coffin. I considered not taking you in to school and have you do the make up shot at the end of the month, but quickly decided that wasn't right. You would proudly rock your new haircut in a photo with your teachers and friends. I mean it's only hair and it will grow back I kept telling myself. Thankfully you have a grand collection of hats that you love and had already chosen one to wear the next morning.

I love you son, always and forever.

And already your curls are making a comeback!

Love, Mom

Little Lion King Afro: In Memoriam

Letters to our sons | April

Sarah Davis April 16, 2014

My dearest Cash,

I think it's safe to say that Monkey is your best friend. You met him when you were 10 months old and he soon became the one thing you took along with you everywhere. During your short three years on this earth so far, you have reached for Monkey when feeling playful to dance with and toss around, to hide behind when feeling shy, to brush against your face when sleepy, and of course, collect your tears when feeling sad. I have countless memories of you curled up on the sofa, in your bed, and before that in your crib, drinking milk and cuddling with Monkey. He was there with you when you started teetering upright on your two legs, and a comfort to you when you inevitably tumbled to the ground. He rode with you on your first plane ride to Southern California when you were 13 months old and has since traveled with you by plane, train and car to places like Pittsburgh, Chicago, and Central America. With so many photos of you with Monkey in your clutches, wide awake or slumped over in your car seat, there is no denying he is your best buddy.

It's no wonder that you absolutely WILL NOT go to sleep without him. When you were younger, if Monkey was looking tattered and needed cleaning, I would have to sneak him off to the laundromat for a "bath", crossing my fingers that you wouldn't need him until he was finished drying. As you got a little older, we would make a field trip out of taking Monkey to the laundromat, watching him spin around in the soapy suds, coming back 20 minutes later to put his sopping wet furriness into the dryer to "get warm". In a confessional moment, Monkey you have today is actually your second Monkey. The first one had become a rag of holes from which stuffing was steadily coming out, deflating over time any semblance of its former primate self. It was such a relief when you received Monkey #2 that you never knew the difference. In your eyes he had just gotten the best bath of his life. Phew!

When you had your first real heavy duty 24-hour fever and could only lie around on the sofa all day - who was there? Monkey of course. He also went with you every day of your first year of preschool, the perfect companion during a time of great transition. Teacher Rachel designated a special basket in the classroom for monkey to sleep in until circle time when you would retrieve him to sing songs and listen to stories with your new friends.

After you turned three and got a little, shall we say, more rowdy? energetic?… you started an incessant pastime of throwing Monkey around the house. It actually drives Daddy and me crazy. You'll throw him into the air, narrowly missing a piece of furniture or knocking things off the table or pictures off the wall as you dive to catch him. In actuality I suppose you are just playing catch with your best friend, but still it's a bit wearing on your dear mother and father. Not for your baby brother though. He loves when you toss Monkey high in the air, squealing in delight as he falls from the sky into your embrace. Ahhhh.

This past week New York City has had some gorgeous spring days and whenever we've gone out to enjoy them, you've told me that Monkey wants to come too. I say that's fine but that you are responsible for him. You oblige and carry him throughout the day with love and care, telling me he's "magical" and always making sure his furry paws don't drag on the ground.

I love you very much son and your beautiful friendship with Monkey.

Mom

Some recent snapshots of you and your furry pal

Letters to our sons | March

Sarah Davis March 17, 2014

My beloved Grey Grey,

You are such a yummy age right now. My favorite in fact. At nine months old you are learning so many new things, consistently reaching for the gold with your attempts to crawl, stand and dance - especially alongside your older brother. I can tell you desperately want to catch up to him as your eyes follow his every movement from room to room, squealing and giggling every time he comes into your view and whipping your head around to find him when he's not. It seems as if that is your goal each day - to get up and play with him despite his occasional bullying. Ha!

On the other hand, I can definitely wait. I don't want you to grow up just yet. Secretly I'd prefer if you didn't start crawling for a little longer. You are such a happy baby who amazes loved ones and strangers alike with your cool demeanor and sweet little soul. Like a cherub with your pink lips, perpetually rosy cheeks and multitude of creases on your arms and legs (some of which is now starting to disappear), you make me want to slow down the hands of time and snuggle you more often and tightly before you transform into a lanky toddler boy which I know will happen way too soon. One day you'll be mortified to learn this, but I've been known to occasionally strip you "nekkid" and show whomever is present your chubby little baby tushie. Okay, many times. I'm sorry, I just can't help myself. Really Grey, I can't. I refer to you as my "bonus baby" (coined by a dear friend) because for awhile Daddy and I weren't planning to have any more children after your brother. But then as you know, God changed my heart on that matter and here you are, glorious and beautiful.

The sounds you have started making this past month are so delightful - raspberry sounds with your lips, little growls and high-pitched squeals that you like to have mimicked back to you, "Bah" sounds and clucks with your tongue. Your favorite game is the one where you do something like shake your head or clap your hands and I'll copy you. We'll go back and forth doing this for the longest time, cracking each other up. When you started clapping your hands last month, the whole family joined in the celebration. You were so happy to have learned this and below is a photo of you relishing in your latest achievement. Your smile (with your four bottom chiclet teeth showing) couldn't be any bigger, a tell-tale sign of your amazement.

This past month we spent a week at Grandma and Pow Pow's house and, since they have these great big windows in their house, I took the opportunity to set up a little photo shoot with you. They have this old milk crate that Aunt Gail gave them for Christmas with our family name "ROEMER" embossed on the sides and it was Pow Pow's idea to photograph you inside it. Perfectly snug inside the small box, we had a great time playing around and taking photos. This is the last time you will ever fit in a container so small, so I was happy to capture some photos to remind me of when you were so little.

Though you may be little in size your sense of humor is grand in scale. I love your laugh and more than that, what makes you laugh. It's actually your brother (no surprise!) who can get you to laugh the hardest. It's absolutely contagious -- and I find myself laughing when listening to the two of you crack each other up. I predict we will share joy and laughter in so many things, together and as a family, as the years go by.

[Click each image below to view full size and advance slideshow]

These days your loves include doing frog jumps and twirls in your swing, banging spoons on pots and pans, sitting in a big cardboard box, splashing the water in the tub, grabbing your toes, watching shadows move along the wall, the music of Ray Charles, having a blanket parachuted above you, watching your brother dance and playing with his curly hair. You have a zest for life, a smile that can't be matched and a curiosity that just won't quit. As Grandma and Pow Pow said while we were visiting, "He really is such an adorable baby." That you are. My truly irresistible love.

Always and forever,

Mom

Letters to our sons | February

Sarah Davis February 16, 2014

"So, how many hats does Cash have?'"

This is a question Pow-Pow often asks when we go and visit him and Grandma.

"Well," I say, "quite a lot."

Dear Cash, my son and wearer of many hats ~

You have been wearing hats since before you could walk --- heck, before you could talk! At six months old you wore your first one; it was a newsboy hat and it was white, for your baptism. I don't recall you keeping it on all that long that particular day, but by the time summer arrived three months later, you were hardly out and about without one. On your first birthday that September, a family friend gave you a plaid newsboy hat that looked just like the Kangols Daddy always wears. To this day, one of my all time favorite photos and the inspiration for me to dust off my camera and delve into photography again, is of you and Daddy in Central Park wearing your newsboy hats. It makes my heart swoon.

Just after your first birthday we made a trip to southern California. By then you had several newsboy hats - plaid, houndstooth and pinstriped. During a stroll through the village of San Clemente, we came across a black gingham porkpie that would become your signature hat - above all others. From that point on you didn't go anywhere without your porkpie, drawing smiles and comments from passersby everywhere. You have gingham, plaid and blue wooly ones for the the colder months and blue/white and black/grey straw ones for the warmer months. Dad and I are still surprised to this day how attached you have become to your hats and how you fuss when someone takes it off your head. It's no wonder that Jon Klassen's book,"I Want My Hat Back", about a bear who has lost his hat and desperately wants it back, is one of your favorites. Equally amusing to you is Klassen's sequel to the book, "This Is Not My Hat", about a fish that stole a hat and will probably get away with it, that Santa put under the tree for you this Christmas.

"A hat is a flag, a shield, a bit of armor, and the badge of masculinity. A hat is the difference between wearing clothes and wearing a costume; it's the difference between being dressed and being dressed up; it's the difference between looking adequate and looking your best. A hat is to be stylish in, to glow under, to flirt beneath, and to make all others seem jealous over. A piece of magic is a hat." ~ M. Sliter

Above is a collage of photos of you wearing various hats throughout your first three years of life, which by the way, was an absolute joy to create. To the left is the photo of you and Daddy that I cherish most of all, for reasons already mentioned. Framed and prominently placed on our bookshelf, I find myself looking at it all the time.

You are my little dapper don, my pint-sized aficionado whose hat wearing is a vital part of your personality and style. Who knows if your little brother will become such a fan, but it was just this month that he started wearing your white newsboy hat - the first one you ever wore.

Hats off to you my son! May you always be king of your own swagger.

Love always and forever,

Mom

Letters to our sons | January

Sarah Davis January 15, 2014

***I am so thankful to be a part of this blog circle "Letters to our Sons", with so many amazing photographers and moms. In honor of our love for our little boys, we are posting a monthly image(s) along with a corresponding, heartfelt letter. After reading my post please click HERE to continue around the circle, starting with the very talented Jojo Pedri Clark.

Dear Cash and Grey,

Well this past Christmas was your first Christmas together as brothers. As usual we spent the holiday in Wilmette at Aunt Gail and Uncle Elio's house. Grandma and Pow Pow drove in from Pittsburgh, Uncle Jim flew in from Oregon, and your cousins Alex, Laura and Nicki worked hard to have everything ready for your arrival. Even Rocky and Penny, the family's two four legged pals, were excited that you were coming to visit. But we all knew Cash, that there was one visitor who you were especially hoping would arrive, traveling all the way from the North Pole!

SANTA!

For weeks you'd been anticipating his arrival, maintaining your best behavior in the hopes that that might help - and that maybe, just maybe, because you'd been such a good boy, he would bring you a "B" subway train car to add to your collection. Your biggest concern was how Santa would know you were in Chicago and not New York City, but Dad and I assured you that Santa knew where each little boy and girl would be on Christmas morning.

During our stay for the holiday, cousin Alex generously gave up his room for us. We took it over with all of our luggage strewn about - a blow up mattress, crib, books, toys and enough clothes for a week long stay. After our Christmas Eve dinner with the family, the two of you dressed in your matching festive pajamas and put out the Christmas cookies & milk for Santa & the carrots for Rudolph. You said goodnight to all of the family and were off to bed for it would surely be an early morning. And that it was! During the predawn of Christmas, the four of us hung out in Alex's room, waiting for a decent hour to gather the other family members and descend downstairs. It was during this time that I took some of my favorite photos of the day. Candid, playful and imperfect. What fun watching the two of you in your bare feet on a messy bed, cracking each other up in contagious excitement. Your first Christmas morning together is captured in this series of photos, silly and unposed - just brothers in their natural and playful state on a very special morning.

[Click photo to advance slideshow and continue reading]

Christmas morning was truly magical. The family went downstairs to discover that Santa had indeed arrived and presents were everywhere - one of which was the coveted "B" train. You were over the moon Cash. And Grey, Santa knew you needed socks! How on earth he knew that is a big mystery!

It was such a beautiful Christmas morning spent with family, filled with love, laughter and joy. Of course we managed to take a few formal Christmas photos like the ones below, but it was the time we shared together upstairs as a family, playing on the bed, that I will remember most.

Always & forever,

Mom

[Click photo to enlarge]

Letters to our sons | December

Sarah Davis December 15, 2013

***I am so thankful to be a part of this blog circle "Letters to our Sons" with so many amazing photographers and moms. In honor of our love for our little boys, we are posting a monthly image(s) along with a corresponding, heartfelt letter. After reading my post please click HERE to continue around the circle, starting with my talented and dear friend Jill Cassara.

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Dear Cash, my little train fanatic,

There are a few things in your world so far that bring you tremendous happiness, and near the top of that list is trains. Living in New York City we ride the subway almost every day which is most likely how this fascination began. You are so curious about the different subway lines - which ones run express, which ones are local and which ones take us to Grand Central. On our underground travels, whenever the subway doors open you say, "Mommy, which stop is this?", and have come pretty close to memorizing each stop on our daily commute to preschool. Coming home from school we try our best to ride in the front car of the "C" train so we can look out the window and watch the train race, twist and turn along the old tracks. You'll spot other trains riding next to ours and tell me which line it is and whether it's headed uptown or downtown, finding it especially thrilling when our local beats the express to the station. At the recent parent-teacher conference your teachers shared that during free play you religiously make a bee line for the train tracks, building elaborate systems winding in all directions. I asked if other children in the class are as interested and they replied, "Nope, just Cash." Perhaps it is because you are the only one in your class that rides the subway to school? Maybe so, but it comes as no surprise that your recent request to Santa includes the "B" and "D" subway cars to add to your collection.

This Thanksgiving we made our usual trip to Grandma and Pow Pow's in Pennsylvania. What a thrill when Pow Pow, a lifelong train fanatic himself, offered to take you trainspotting.

{Please click photo to see the slideshow "Trainspotting with Pow Pow" and then continue reading}

Pow Pow took you down to a bridge in the old mill town of Leetsdale that, because of icy conditions, was closed off to traffic. It was the perfect place to watch for freight trains, especially since the tracks run right underneath the bridge. Pow Pow is eighty years old and has loved trains since he was a small boy like you. His own grandfather gave him a Lionel train set that they would put up or around the Christmas tree each year and for a long time he dreamt about one day being a train engineer. He would travel by train to and from Princeton and to and from Connecticut College to date your grandmother, meeting her under the clock at Grand Central. Though he chose a much different career path while contemplating college, marriage, raising and supporting a family, his love affair with trains and counting cars has never waned. In fact it was just two years ago, at the age of 78, that Pow Pow finally got the chance to fulfill his lifelong dream - to be an "engineer for a day" of the East Broad Top steam locomotive! Which just goes to show you Cash, never give up on your dreams. Never Ever.

I just want to say too that this was quite a special afternoon for me, being able to see my father share in his passion for trains with you, my oldest son, and capture those moments with my camera. It is one day I shall not soon forget and believe you will always remember. I love you Cash and your wild boy dreams.

Always and forever,

Mom

Letters to our sons | November

Sarah Davis November 16, 2013

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My sweet boys,

When I found out I was pregnant for the second time, I desperately wanted to have another boy. It was all I could think about, praying that we would have two boys who would grow up as brothers close enough in age to hopefully be best friends as well. I'll never forget the appointment when my doctor told me the good news. I was so overwhelmed with joy that I was brought to tears, scrambling for my cellphone so I could call Daddy. He actually thought something dreadful had happened and it took him a minute to realize I was hysterically happy.

Grey is a boy!! Grey is a boy!!

At any rate, I tell you all of this to let you know how much I wanted you for each other. And most recently, watching your relationship develop, as new and young as it is, has been nothing short of awesome. Even though you are only five months old Grey, and cannot sit up without help, your big brother Cash still wants to "play" with you. Usually this means placing you in the Bumbo seat so you can be a captive audience to your older sibling and first friend. What can possibly thrill a three year old more than undivided attention from someone who can't talk back? Ha! But Cash, in all seriousness, it's such a blast watching you play guitar and sing for Grey, moving his arms so he is "dancing" with you, reading books to him ("Did you like that story Grey Grey?"), cooking dinner for him, and overall just having him in your company.

Every time Grey wakes up from one of his many naps, you go running and jumping down the hallway singing, "Grey is up! Grey is up! I want to play with Grey Grey!" I've since started taking photos of you two together and these are a few of my recent favorites. It was just yesterday that you wanted Grey to sit inside your "tent house" so you could play your guitar and sing to him. Hilarious. But of course I still have to keep a watchful eye on you Cash as you sometimes slip in a sneaky pinch or a quick little jab to Grey's ribs. I mean what big brother hasn't done that to his baby brother now and again?

To see you begin connecting is incredible, especially how each of you light up at the sight of the other. Knowing that this is just the start of your brotherhood is an amazing feeling. I know that it is ALL so worth it.

Love always + forever,

Mom

"There's no other love like the love for a brother. There's no other love like the love from a brother." ~ Terri Guillemets

Letters to our sons | October

Sarah Davis October 16, 2013

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My beloved son,

You recently turned 3 years old and I don't think there is anything in this world you love more than baseball. Of course you are passionate about all ball sports, first discovering basketball when you were 15 months old and then football around the age of two, but now you have an official, unequivocal baseball obsession. For the past year you and Daddy have been playing baseball in your room at the same time every day for an hour. I think that is why you learned to read the numbers on the cable box's digital clock, so you would know exactly when the hour arrived. "It's 4 o'clock Daddy! It's 4:00! Time for baseball!" As your mother it has been very sweet to see you and Daddy share in something so special every day and to hear your laughs and "hoorays" fill the apartment.

During the summer months when your pitches and hits had outgrown small indoor spaces, we went as a family to the neighborhood playground to practice. On special days we went to Riverbank State Park, Central Park and even Brooklyn Bridge Park to play under the iconic structure. Other boys much older than you would ask to join in after seeing you and Daddy playing together and I would watch you include them only to hide your frustration when they threw underhanded or not at the level you were accustomed.

Passersby, mainly fathers and some grandfathers frequently ask Daddy, "How old is he? He's only TWO?!! Wow, he's got a great arm for just two years old!" You even shocked your own grandfather Pow-Pow when you first played together, hitting most of his pitches well out of his reach.

The photos above were taken during our recent trip to Grandma and Pow Pow's house in Pennsylvania. For a whole week we had access to their big backyard and all you wanted to do was go outside to play baseball. You didn't care about eating or that it was 90 degrees outside or that you were sweating through your clothes. You just wanted to play ball. That is when you are happiest and when your smile is the biggest. So my son, my wish is that you may always find such joy in the things in life that you love.

Always and forever,

Mom

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Letters to our sons | September

Sarah Davis September 5, 2013

It is September. It is Fall. It is both a new season and the perfect time to join another blog circle! This month is the kickoff to “Letters to Our Sons” which I am so honored to have joined. Secretly I had been longing to be part of such a group and was over the moon when the invitation arrived. We are a group of friends and fellow photographers who are also the mothers of sons. Each month we will share about the boy(s) in our lives through our photography and a corresponding, heartfelt letter. After reading my post, please consider following the circle starting with my dear friend and creator of this amazing group, Jill Cassara. Click HERE to check out what she has to share about life with her little man.

***

Dear Grey Grey,

I can't believe you are finally here. You are my second son and loved so very much. I actually thought that after having your older brother I was done having children, that Dad and I would be parents to only one boy, but that was not God's plan. In the midst of a baptism service last spring, my heart was dramatically changed and I walked out of the church knowing whole heartedly that we were to have another baby. We were to have YOU.

So now you are (unbelievably) three months old and up until last week I was bathing you in the sink. For my first "Letters to our sons" post I knew I wanted to capture a photo of you nestled in our small NYC bathroom sink because there was nothing more fleeting. At first you were so tiny and new and rested easily on my forearm, but as the weeks went by your chubby limbs started pouring out over the sides, knocking over toiletries and toothbrushes. So quickly you had outgrown this manner of wash and never again will you fit into a small bathroom sink.

I wish to add that I enjoyed each of these nights with you, softly singing "Hush Little Baby..." as I cleaned behind your ears, underneath your neck and in the creases of your delicious arms and legs. You would turn your head toward me and light up the whole room, and my heart, with your smile and playful splashes. So much so that I often times felt like crying.

You've made my heart grow bigger Grey which I didn't think was possible. I now have not one son but two and I cannot wait to watch you and your brother get to know and love each other over the coming months and years. What a gift from God! YOU are definitely sent from heaven my little babe.