Paloma,

Today you are forty months old.



Today was not the prettiest day. And, while it's been a better month than usual, it's not all sunshine lately, and so it's hard to sit down and write a letter when I can't think of anything nice to say.

So I'm going to think of something nice to say:

Your sister - Miss Arden, she thinks you are the most amazing person in the whole wide world. Me? She "needs" me, but she loves you. She hears your voice and perks up, looking around for you, wondering where you are. Right now? She's crawling around, looking for you. She's not in here with me, no. She's trying to hang out with you. I think that says a lot.



We are still working on things, struggling to find the best way to meet your needs. But let me tell you, Missy. There better be a cloud up there, reserved just for me, for being your mother.

I'll save you a spot.



Happy Fortieth Monthday.

Love,
Mama