Dear Littlest Monkey,

I love you so much!  You are, by far, my squishiest, squeeziest, cuddliest baby I’ve had.  ”The others” were cuddly, but not nearly as squishy and squeezy.  I have to be honest with you though.  You are the baby of the family, and because of that, you are being treated differently.  Sometimes it’s good.  Sometimes it’s not.  But as your mother, I feel like it’s my job to be honest with you (and to pay for your therapy later.)

First of all, there’s baths.  Yes, you take baths.  But not nearly as often as your brothers did.  I don’t let you get disgusting, but it’s just not a daily ritual like it was with “the others.”  And… you don’t have any bath toys.  Strike that.  You have one bath toy.  It’s the stress ball the nurse gave Mommy when I was in the hospital having you.  I found it under the sink in the bathroom tonight while I was giving you a bath.  And actually, there’s a pink plastic thing attached to your bathtub that you like to chew on and you really like the cup I use to wash your hair.  So, really you have three bath toys.

Secondly, there’s food.  I was doing a really good job making homemade baby food for you.  I never did that with “the others.”  But, honestly, baby, I stopped.  I don’t understand the benefit.  It’s not cheaper, and it’s a lot of work.  I’ll make your food soon enough, I’m practically a short order chef at lunch time.  So, as long as I can easily buy a box or a bag or a jar off a grocery store shelf, it really helps Mommy stay sane.  You understand, right?

Also, you’re lucky.  I’ve realized that “the others” have never died from anything I’ve fed them, so sometimes when you cry in a restaurant, I give you french fries.  You seem to like them.  And I justify it by calling them potatoes, because potatoes are healthy and they come from the Earth.  And you really like sweet potatoes, so it’s kind of like eating sweet potato’s crispier cousin, the french fry.  You’ve also eaten sand at the beach, and I didn’t try to stop you.  Mmmmm, mmmm, mmmm.

Last week, I took you to the movies for the first time.  ”The others” didn’t get to experience a real movie in a theater until they were well passed one, maybe even two.  But look at how lucky you are!  You got to go when you were only 7 months old!  Lucky ducky!  Mommy really needed to get out of the house and she couldn’t find a babysitter, so you came and sat on my lap and ate a lot, a lot of puffs.  But you were really good!  You kind of have to be.  So, thanks for that.

Finally, there’s nighttime.  When “the others” were your age they were definitely doing a better job at sleeping through the night.  But not you, Sweet Angel.  Some people say that it’s because you’re the baby and I want to hold on to that “baby stage” as long as I can.  (We call those people “crazy.”)  What it really is, is that Mommy is exhausted.  And letting you cry it out or doing any form of sleep training causes Mommy to lose sleep, and Mommy doesn’t like that.  So, instead Mommy feeds you a few times every night.  I know that in the long run, this will really work against me, but, like I said, I’m tired.

Well, Sweet Monkey, I love you!  I feel better now that I’ve been honest and we’ve had this heart to heart. You may want to hold on to this letter and save it for your therapist later. It may explain a lot of things to him.



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