Dear Sweetface,
Today I whacked you with the van door. I had no clue you were in the garage and my hands were full. I managed to get a tiny grip on the back door and threw it down. Right, on your head. Ouch. You seem fine though.
I feel like you are close to learning to read. I'm not sure why, you really don't know all your letters, but you seem to look at books and say what they say sometimes. I know right now it's just remembering the name and certain words and stuff, but still. It makes me feel like you are closer rather than farther.
Some days I have horrible guilt because we stay home together and I don't do anything. I do some laundry, run errands and sit at the computer. You play, sing and entertain yourself. Why don't I do more? Why am I such a lazy parent? I'm working on it. I'm trying to work on it.
Anyway, I love you and hope the bump on your head is OK.
Love,
Mom
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