Dear Riley,
you are a pistol. A little pistol. It was definitely NOT you this weekend who spent 40 minutes wandering all over the ops office at Copper, finding an ethernet cord and discovering the hole was big enough to fit over your
not so little head. It has to have been some other small child who discovered puddles for the first time at Sunsation- soaking your baby blue fleece plants with water and mud. We definitely didn't let you take ice out of our empty cocktail glasses and eat it. You also definitely did
NOT fall asleep in your highchair for the THIRD time in the last three weeks. And I also did
not leave you there because you were a mess and removing from said highchair would have caused you to wake up, so there you stayed. You also have
not developed a fascination/obsession with the trash can, so much so that Daddy and I are seriously considering buying a stainless steel locking can just to keep your little hands off the wine bottle that you keep mistaking for a teething toy.
Love you, as big as the big white bucket that you kept putting things in today and couldn't get them back out of,
Momma
(oh and you are know saying mama consistently...thank you;-D))
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