44 months

Papi Bello,

It has been so many months since you were born that I had to count them on my fingers. And even THEN I got it wrong. To the best of my figuring, you are now just a bit over 44 months.

I haven't lovingly chronicled every moment or even every month of your development, but have often wished I had. I wished it at a few weeks, then a few months. It has now been a few years (a bit over three and a half), and I have realized that some of those memories have faded a bit, but I can capture these ones. And I promise to do my best, which is all any parent can promise their child. Because I know that when you are a bigger guy, all lanky arms and B.O. and pretend hatred, too big for cuddling but hopefully never too big for hugging, I will kick myself if I haven't carefully documented the little boy who fits perfectly in my lap, who has perpetually unruly hair and a persistent toddler belly, and who is damned funny.

We were sitting at the dinner table the other day, talking about monsters (and really, who doesn't like monsters) and you had thought: "I know!" you said brightly "mayyy-beeee, the monster eat my supper!" "Say: 'great idea' mama!" you demanded, but I couldn't, because we were too busy cracking up.

Recently, you have developed a "best-friendship". This is new territory for me- because we live in a co-op with six other kids, you have built-in after-school play buddies. I haven't felt the need to facilitate play dates, because quite frankly, after I get home I'm lucky if I can drum up the energy to take you outside for half an hour and or to play board games with you. But your teachers tell me you are inseperable, and I can see it when I come to pick you up: the two of you squeel with glee, jump up and down, hold hands and run amok through the mall, climbing into all the coin-operated car and merry-go-round rides. You give each other great hugs. It gives me great joy, and makes me wistful at the same time. I want to freeze you, or bottle you, or do something to prevent the part of passage of time where you "realize" un-truths like "boys don't hug, and they certainly don't hold hands and squeel" and other such homophobia society will eventually impose upon you. And whether or not you believe in it, you will likely conform to it, because that's what big boys have to do to survive in this culture.

But for now, I will watch you, and enjoy you. You are breathtakingly smart. You are a great counter, too. After insisting that there were monsters at the table I asked you how many. You pointed to each of us and said: "I see TWO monsters at da table. Oooone, twoooo."