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Dear Maly,

You turned 24-months-old this past week. In fact, the day on which I’m writing this is exactly two years after your due date. You blessed us a week earlier than we had expected, which, from a time management perspective means you take after me. If you had taken after your mom, you’d still be inside of her, picking at things on the interior wall of the womb, double and triple folding the umbilical cord and recalling how your due date was supposed to be Saturday, April 22, 2006 and the sky was a beautiful shade of baby blue with puffy clouds in the — no, I think it was supposed to be Friday, April 21. Or was it… no, it was supposed to rain that day and it didn’t because the grass wasn’t wet when we left that morning and it was such a deep green, almost blue — Yes, it was April 22nd…

This month you definitely turned into a two-year-old. Your favorite word is “NO!” You throw tantrums, you defy, you scream, you disobey, you throw yourself onto the ground and bury your head if you don’t get your way and you look at us out of the corner of your eye when you’re doing something that you know shouldn’t be doing. And despite what I’ve told your mother that I’ve wanted to do with you a few times, I love you now more than ever — if that’s even possible.

This month you’ve taken to the all-too-girly princesses, which is very cute. I say it’s cute right now because I’m sure that in four more years I’ll be plenty sick of princesses. What’s so adorable right now is your fascination with the movie Cinderella, and your frequent requests to watch said movie: “Watch Cinderellellellella?”

I think one of the milestones worth noting is your improved dexterity. You use forks and spoons like it’s second nature now. You put Crayon to paper very well and determined. You’re precise when you build things with your blocks. And you do most of these things with your left hand. Your mom and I are both right-handed. Both sets of grandparents are right-handed. But we carry a recessive left-handed gene, which we’re thinking you picked up. It may be too early to tell, but who knows. Lefties are sometimes pegged as different, but I will embrace that difference because it pulls on a special heartstring of mine. Because my dad was nearly blind in his right eye, he had to teach himself how to shoot a gun and draw a bow left handed. I learned to shoot a gun and draw a bow left handed because I emulated my dad when he taught me how to hunt. And you favoring your left hand right now reminds me of that and how special my relationship was with my dad.

You’ve got your ABC’s and 123′s down pat now. What’s great is that you quickly became pretty bored with your 123′s because we’d go to 10, applaud, be done and then focus on our ABC’s. The next night, we’d blow through our 123′s again and then I’d try going on to 11, 12, etc. I guess twelve is hard for you to say, so we’re somewhat stuck at 11, which is okay by me. Whenever I talk to other dad’s and the subject of counting comes up, I’m quick to point out that, “yeah but, this one goes to eleven.”

You continue to let your independence grow and shine. Very often you say, “Maly do it!”, which means you want to water the lawn, blow the bubbles, put the cinnamon on your oatmeal, strap yourself into your car seat and brush your teeth. You’re bold and adventurous, yet understand that you need guidance and protection. You’re quick to bolt out of the house through the front door when we open it, but understand the disparity in our voices if you’re too quick.

You have an interesting fascination with ants and moose that recently came about. A few times when you’ve come to me while I’m at my computer, you’ll ask, “watch movie?” I’ll pause, pick you up and say, “Okay.” You’ll immediately say, “ants!” So we’ll watch some educational video about ants on YouTube. Then you’ll say, “moose!” So we watch some video of a moose playing with a soccer ball.

Shortly after I told you that EVERYTHING is on the Web, you stored that information permanently and decided to test my recently imparted knowledge by asking, “butterfly?” And a few seconds later we were watching butterfly videos. Butterflies are such beautiful and graceful creatures and should be appreciated free in nature, never as a tattoo.

You’ve grown physically so much that it’s so hard to remember you as a wobbly-headed 8.5 pound baby who couldn’t fend for herself. Now you run, dance, ask questions and are trying to master the somersault. Now you’re regimented and have expectations that we’ve instilled upon you. You’re part of the operation, the ship, the ensemble that makes us a family. You’re growing, learning and defining your role in the family. You announce when you poop and when Daddy needs to trim his ear hair.

The other night your mom went to the Parents Morning Out registration lottery. There are a select number of kids that get to be enrolled in “school” by means of drawing names out of a hat. Your name was one that was drawn. We weren’t really expecting to “win” so we’re still in somewhat of a state of shock that in August, you’ll be on your own, without your mom or dad for four hours every Tuesday and Thursday for nine months. So it looks like we’ll be unleashing you unto the world. And more importantly, the church. If you can hold off on pointing out the location and professing from where your farts originate, that would be much appreciated.

But what stands out in my mind right now, is that night that we had together while your mom was at the lottery. Since I broke my ankle almost two months ago, I’ve been a little limited in the rituals that you and I have established over the course of two years. That night was one of the few nights where I was left to my own devices. And for both of us, despite my temporary disability, it was just like old times. You were excited about taking a bath and trying to catch the “vortex” (the water swirling down the tub drain), brushing your teeth and putting on jammies. I think these are things that have caused your mom unusual stress as of late because those are things that you and I normally do.

What was really cute was the part where your mom would ordinarily take over to put you to bed. That night, I had to fill in. In the past couple months, your mom would rock you in the rocking chair and sing songs to you. You have four songs that you like your mom to sing to you: Ocean, Edel, Beautiful and Trees. I don’t know any of these songs. And apparently you know this.

With your head on my shoulder, I rocked you and started talking about nothing, thinking that a monotonous voice would calm you and get you ready for bed. After a couple minutes, you asked, “song?”, instead of a request for a specific song that you would have otherwise asked of your mom. This was of great surprise to me. So I quickly asked, “Okay! What song to you want Daddy to sing?” And, of course, you said, “moose!!!” So I made up a song about a moose named Jeff who had bad breath. And when I ran out of words that rhymed with breath, I rubbed your back and said, “that was a great song”. And then you said, “butterfly!” So I made up a song about butterflies that rode motorcycles near the ocean. And, thankfully, I sang well enough to where you fell asleep with your head on my shoulder. That’s something you haven’t done in quite a long while. Instead of getting out of that rocking chair and putting you into your bed, I just sat there and held your sleeping body close to me for a few minutes. I will cherish that moment forever.

http://www.maly.tv/video/20080322_Maly.flv

As you keep growing and take in the world around you, I just hope that the good advice and examples that we provide are the ones that stick with you, and that you continue to blossom to be the beautiful person that you’ve already proven that you can be. I constantly hope and pray that I do and say the right things that will stick with you. I hope I never miss that opportunity to impart my knowledge and love so that one day, you will know how to do better than me.

I love you so much, Sugar. More than you will ever, ever know.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned 23-months-old this past week. My love for you continues to grow each and every day. On the other hand, your love for your mom and me seems to be regularly distracted by your newfound item of comfort. I’d somewhat expected this of you at some point in your life. Your mom and I both had our security blankets when we were toddlers. This month you found the comfort of a baby blue microfiber washcloth. It’s pretty cute because you hold the washcloth in your right hand, pressed against your cheek while you suck the fingers on your left hand. What’s cute, but equally strange, is that you insist that your rag be wet. And you let us know as much. “Wet. Wet. Wet. WETTTTT!!!!” So either your mom or I have to run the rag through the sink and ring it out so it’s wet enough to satiate you, yet not too wet as to leave a trail or water along your trail throughout the house.

From about the time your started saying words, you quickly realized that asking, “this?” would warrant a response and explanation to whatever “this” was that you were pointing to. You still say “this” whenever you want something that’s beyond your reach and you don’t know the name of said this, or you want to know the name of “this”. This month you caught on to saying, “who’s that?” I’m pretty sure you got that from your mom and me because of the countless photos we’ve shown you in the past 23 months and asked you, “Maly, who’s that?” Now, whenever you see a photo of a person (or an inanimate object) that you’re not sure of, you ask, “who’s that?”

It’s seems as if you’ve reached a pivotal point in your young life where you’re really branching out. Your synapses have converged and you’re now taking everything in a way that I like to think of not much unlike a scary sponge. An interesting thing that you have brought to our attention is that Mom and I growl. A lot. Whenever we get frustrated with anything in general, we both have a tendency to let out a guttural moan. A couple of weeks ago I was feeding you soup for lunch. As usual, you quickly ate started playing with you food. We taught you from an early age that food is to stay on the table, and for the most part, you’re an abiding child. On this particular day I think you got a little too excited and your spoon sent your bowl and remainder of your soup onto the floor, the chair and the wall. Had it been anything other than soup, I probably just would have kept my normal, laid-back composure, reminded you to keep your food on the table and cleaned the mess. Instead, while attempting to mask my frustration, I growled under my breath and used the Big Daddy of all expletives…

And then I heard, in what I still consider your soft and angelic voice, you repeat me verbatim: Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. F**K!!”

Now, more than ever, Mom and I have to be ever cognizant of your sponginess. I look at it as a challenge and am happy and anxious to teach you the good in life and you continue to grow and become more and more inquisitive.

Your imagination is really starting to shine through now as well. We’ve always known you have a vivid imagination, but now it’s starting to materialize. Enter Simmy. Every once in a while during the past month, we’d hear you say, “No no, Simmy!” I can totally understand the “no no” part as it’s in your mom’s and my daily vocabulary, but who or what is Simmy? We know of no word that resembles “Simmy”. This past week I decided that you have an imaginary friend named Simmy. I could be completely wrong, but I like to think your creative side is starting to shine.

You’re such a sweet little angel. It’s scary how fast you’re growing up but exciting in the same breath. As you grow, you interact with us and the world around you more and more. You’re becoming independent and that frightens me. But as I watch you become more independent, I can also see how you need me more and more, but in a different way. A way where you need a little more guidance, and a little less security. Regardless of how much security and guidance you need, I’ll always be here to give you all that I have and then some.

I love you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned 22-months-old this past week. I had recently realized that I’d fallen behind on writing my letter to you this month. For a fleeting moment I thought to myself, “Man, I don’t have the time or energy to write it right now.” And no sooner had that thought crossed my mind when the father in me kicked in. In another fleeting moment I was reminded of how lucky and blessed I have to have the priviledge to write this letter to you every month. While your mom was pregnant with you, I’d been told by friends and family that I would never again imagine life without my child in it.

And that is so very true. When people told me that, we didn’t know what you were. We didn’t know if you were a boy or a girl. We didn’t know if there might be complications during the pregnancy, delivery or after your were born. There were so many “what ifs”. And here you are, going on 2-years-old and it seems like just last week I was walking you around the house as a teeny-tiny baby in my arms and accidentally whacked the side of your head against the back of the bar stool.

Now onto this month’s milestones…

I’m not really sure yet if this is normal for a child of your age, but you now know the alphabet. Well, you know all of the letters. We’re still working on the actual alphabet song and learning the order in which the letters occur, but you know every single letter. We started out many months ago with just the vowels during bath time. At some point you seemed to be getting bored with vowels, so we started learning more and more letters each night. Now whenever you printed words, you like to point out and say the letters in the words.

I’m very proud of you for this. I think it’s fantastic how quickly you picked up on all of your letters. If you’re anything like your mom, I envision you being quite the linguist.

Another milestone is that you’re not quite as enthusiastic about Nemo as you were last month. Albeit for the vast majority of the month we were pretty inundated with requests to watch Nemo, but those requests have started to subside. And surprisingly, your mom and I never really got sick of that movie.

Your motor skills have been continuing to improve. I’d say you’ve got running down pretty well now. I actually have to run after you if I need to catch you whereas in the past I could just take a few quick steps and catch up with you. You’ve also begun to grasp the concept and effort in playing catch. Your reflexes aren’t quite there yet, but your effort and enthusiasm are admirable; two qualities that I hope you continue to maintain as you get older.

You’re very observant and like to point things out and explain them to us. You’re on the verge of putting together 3-4 word sentences. You say things like, “Daddy blue shirt” and “Bye bye, see ya”.

Your evolving vocabulary has also left me laughing to nearly the point of tears. Most of these moments have been during our time at night when I give you a bath, brush your teeth, put your pajamas on you and get your ready for bed. Recently I was chasing your from the bathroom to Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom after I’d given you a bath. As we were breaching the threshold, I said, “Okay, Maly, let’s put on a diaper.” You threw yourself to the ground and rolled over onto your back. I reached into your diaper drawer and then grabbed your feet and pulled them up so your butt was off the carpet so I could slide your diaper underneath you. It was at that point that my lifting of your feet must have squeezed your guts with enough thrust to send a rocket fart blaring from your butt. My eyebrows immediately lifted with surprise and amusement before I sent myself into laughter. Before you joined me in my laughter, you pointed out, “Ohhhhh, Maly FART!!!” To which I had to lie down beside you to laugh.

On another recent ocassion I was changing your diaper. We were having our usual conversation about wind wind wind the bobbin, the colors of all of the beads you own, that time that Nemo and Dori ran into the angler fish when they were looking for the scuba mask when, out of nowhere, you threw your legs apart and into the air, pointed to your groinal area and proudly proclaimed, “Maly GINA!!!” It was at that moment that I had to cease any and all attempt to laugh and maintain my parental composure and, with a smirk, I responded with, “yes, that is Maly’s vagina.” That was the first time I had to acknowledge the correct anatomical name for that area. I sadly suppose gone are the days of my referencing that area as the cooter and the pooter.

I love watching you grow and learn. I love coming home from work and seeing the look on your face when we first see each other. Even though your attention span is still so small and I don’t think you understand the concept of my being away for the majority of the day, it’s that one little moment when you look at me and I see that excitement in your eye. It’s that look of love and trust that makes it all worth while. It’s the look in your eye and that cute grin that makes me so very proud of you and, even more, proud of what your mom and I have among us.

Thank you for all of those fleeting moments.

I love you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned 21-months-old this week. During this past month you’ve seemed to become a fully functioning, self-reliant human being. You’re starting to embrace your independence and take on life’s little challenges; like how many times can we all watch Finding Nemo in a single day.

You LOVE the movie Finding Nemo. It wouldn’t be a normal day if we didn’t hear the pitter patter of your feet as you come running from the other side of the house while exclaiming, “Nemo. Nemo. Nemo. Nemo. NEMO! NEMO!! NEMO!!! NEEEEEEEEEEEMO!!!!!!!!”

What’s funny is that although every member of this household has seen Finding Nemo a combined time of four hundred thousand times, your mom and I still enjoy watching it. In fact, we’ve decided that if we ever provide you with a sibling, his or her name will probably be named Nemo. That way we’re pretty much guaranteed you’ll eventually get sick of Nemo.

We thought you were going to be an Elmo kid, hence us getting practically everything Elmo for you for Christmas. Elmo’s got nothing on Nemo in this household. Although I am a little partial to the Elmo cell phone that I got for you. This little phone let me download a recording of Elmo saying your name. But of course you have a very unique name, Elmo thinks you’re a little Asian girl. “Ha ha! Hello, Elmo speaking! Oh, I’m so glad to hear from you… May Lee!”

This month you learned how to get out of your crib. When this first happened, your mom and I were baffled. It wasn’t until recently that we were able to witness your escape technique. I must say, I am quite impressed.

Another feat you have accomplished is turning doorknobs and opening doors. Why, just the other evening I was taking care of some paper work when you just barged into the bathroom. You walked right up beside me, pointed at the toilet and proudly said, “Poop!” Not one of my proudest moments, but a moment at which I was relatively proud of you. And just so you know, next on your hit parade is learning how to use the toilet.

Something really cute that you started doing this month is calling you mom Mommy. Up until recently it had always been Mama. It just sounds so much cuter and endearing whenever you say Mommy.

If I had to guess, I’d venture to say that you now know 90% of the letters of the alphabet. We play our alphabet game during bath time. I pick up a letter and say, “Maly, what’s this?” To which you usually say the right letter. After a few minutes you invariably get bored and resort to body surfing or demanding that we watch NEEEEEEEEMO! again.

You’ve also become very astute with your colors. You know blue, green, red, pink, purple, white, brown, yellow, orange, silver, gold and black. “Blue cup”, “Green spoon”, “White truck”, “Red choo choo train”.

Recently you’ve become very much a Mommy’s girl. I’ll come home from work in the evenings, excited to see you and play with you, but you don’t really seem to care much that I’m home. You usually start in on your quasi-witching hour when I get home. Eventually you’ll warm up after much coaxing on my part. I’ll give you your bath, brush your teeth and put your pajamas on, but after that, you go back into Mommy mode. I’ve tried on a few occasions to put you to bed, but you scream and cry for your mommy! I think this has a large part to do with your mom recently taking on a job for the better part of the week where you were at home with a nanny all day.

It wasn’t until tonight when I was finally able to have to privilege of putting you to sleep. We had the Fenders over for dinner and we all stayed up late. It was too late to take a bath, so I brushed your teeth and we walked into your room. You asked to read a book, so we read one book. You wanted to read another book, so you walked to the bookshelf and got the picture book that you and I would always read before I would put you to bed. After we finished that book, I told you it was time for night night. You grabbed Baby Gigi and I picked you up, ready to put you to bed. We went into the kitchen to give your mom a kiss goodnight. We walked back to your room and I put you in your crib. You had me put Gigi at the foot of your crib with Mickey, your teddy bear, bunny, baby and bear. Then you did something that I’ve only heard of. After I kissed my hand, put the kiss on your forehead and told you I loved you, you outstretched your arm and held your palm out to me. I knew to kiss your palm as this is Mommy’s and your ritual. I dutifully kissed your palm. You then outstretched your other arm and presented me with your palm, which I kissed as well.

That moment made me feel good. It felt like you had let me back into the club.

I’m so proud of you and so thankful that you’re my daughter. I don’t think anyone really knows what they’re getting into when they become a parent. You’ve made it for a blessed ride and I want you to know that I’m thankful for everything that you’ve taught me so far. I hope I’m doing the best to return that favor.

I love you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned 20-months-old today. The big 2-0. You’re becoming such a cute and wonderful little person who interacts and learns more and more as each day passes. Your also entering that toddler and sponge stage where you’re really testing your boundaries and your Mom’s and my reactions.

Lets see… new milestones this month: You’re starting to put together small sentences. You can say things like, “Daddy’s eyes”, “blue lights”, “go bye bye”, “Maly poop” and “is this seriously what I’m having for dinner? Seriously?!?!”

You love jewelry. Despite your Mom’s penchant for wanting to instill some kind of tomboy quality in you, you’re all about pink and everything that is girly. And I totally indulge you in your girly efforts. The further I can keep you from the fast-pitch softball field, the better. Not that there’s anything wrong with fast-pitch softball.

Nowadays you don’t go anywhere without your “beads”. You received some plastic beads from a recent birthday party we attended and also from trick-or-treating on Halloween. You LOVE to wear your beads everywhere we go. You insist on wearing your beads as much as humanly possible. This Christmas, I’m going to get you more cheap costume than you’ll know what to do with. And Elmo.

Elmo. You love Elmo. You point at the TV, even when Elmo’s not on and say, “Elmo. Elmo. Elmo. Elmo. ELMO? ELMO? ELMO?? ELLLLLLLLLMOOOOOOOOO!!!??!??!?!?” When we go to the store and happen upon anything Elmo, you point and insist upon engaging in Elmo. Elmo. Got it.

I love the fact that you seem to be preprogrammed to be a girly girl. But you also love watching football on TV. This past month your Mom has usually taken a portion of her Saturday for some “Mama time”, where she’ll either go shopping or just get out of the house for some alone time. This means you and I hang out alone at the house. Whenever you wake up from your nap, usually around 3 p.m., I pick you up from out of your crib and give you a big hug, kiss and tell you that I love you. You indulge me for a few precious moments and then pull yourself away and look at me with a big grin and ask, “ball?!?!” To which I respond, “Yes. Ball!!” And I take you into the living room where we both watch whatever college football game I had been watching while you napped.

And you sit there and watch football with me. It’s awesome. It makes me so happy to hang out with my little girl on a Saturday afternoon and spend an hour watching football. And whenever there’s a good, helmet-crushing, mid-field tackle on a pass reception, you exclaim, “BOOM!!!”

Unfortunately this month greeted you and me with some disciplinary issues. You’ve entered the “Slapping Phase”. And I’ve entered the “Am I a Good Daddy?” phase. Your Mom, you and I were at HEB earlier this month and while in the frozen foods section, you and I had some sort of altercation. I don’t remember the specifics, but I generally use my calm, best judgment and rectify hostile situations with calm, reserved and resourceful tactics. You crossed the line and deliberately slapped me. My gut instinct stepped in. I picked you up in my left arm and spanked you once with my right hand. I have spanked you maybe twice before but with only a tad bit more force than you are accustomed to while we play, so I don’t think you had known you’d been spanked prior to this occasion. This time I hauled off and spanked you so you would know you were spanked. You’re body jolted and froze. You cringed. You immediately screamed and cried. In HEB. In public. Your Mom didn’t say a word. I felt bad, but it was what I felt needed to be done. Your Mom was there and was able to console you after our altercation, which eased my burden to an exent. She urged me to explain why I had spanked you and to tell you that I loved you, which I did. But you weren’t happy with me after that incident.

Unfortunately that wasn’t our only “incident” this month. Just last week you and I were at the house while your Mom was out for the day. You insisted on pulling out the bamboo sticks that are used as guides to keep one of the house plants growing in a vertical direction. I explained to you, “Maly, please leave these sticks in the pot. They’re here for a reason.” After the third, calm request on my part, you hauled off and slapped me. I immediately grabbed the guilty hand and calmly said, “Hands are not for hitting. You do not hit another person unless you are defending yourself.” Yeah, it’s too much for you to understand right now, but I’m getting you started early and training myself to be consistent. You went back to the bamboo stick and pulled it out of the soil. I repeated the calm process again. And you slapped me again. I then decided to employ my “remove the child from the situation” tactic by picking you up, throwing you into the air and catching you while exclaiming, “weeee!!!” Once you came back into my arms from a quick flight, you arched your back, pulled yourself away from me and slapped me again. So I did what my gut told me again. I hated to do it, but I held you with my left hand and spanked you with my right. And I spanked you hard. Again, you cringed, your body jolted and then froze upon impact. You immediately started crying. And it was at that point where I came to a fork in the road. I decided to be firm with my decision and not cave to immediately nurture you and apologize.

With you still in my left arm out-stretched, I walked you to your room as if I had just cleaned the litter box. I sat you down facing your window and I said, “You’re going to take a time out.” I don’t know how I feel about the “time out” thing, but that’s just what I felt like doing at the time. So there you sat. For two whole minutes that felt like an eternity to me. I closed the door and quietly paced while I listened to you sob.

I walked back into your room after I had calmed down. I sat down next to you and put my arm around you. You were still sobbing. You were doing that sobbing thing where you inhale three quick breaths and then exhale in a long breath. You were really sobbing as you had been hurt. I felt like I was the worst parent in the world at that point. I felt as if I had done you wrong. There I was, your Daddy, the person who is supposed to protect you and yet, I was the one who hurt you. I felt like I was an inch tall at that moment.

I picked you up and rested your head on my shoulder. I told you that I loved you and again, that hands were not for hitting. Until you get your yellow belt in Tae Kwon Do and it is your job to pummel your opponent.

We quickly made amends. And you haven’t since slapped me.

Just wait until you’re a Mom and you’ll understand this dilemma. Until then, please know that I’m trying as best I can with the tools that I’ve been give and the undying love that I have for you. I’m trying to give you those same tools with my own interpretations and modifications. I want you to be better than me. Albeit, that’s probably pretty easy seeing how you eat better and bathe more frequently than I do. You get my point. Hopefully. If not, hopefully you will one day.

I love you, Sugar. More than you will ever know.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned 19-months-old today. The past four weeks have flown by so quickly and has left me pondering all that has happened since my last letter to you. Regardless, you grow to be more fascinating and even more beautiful every single day. I love watching your grow, but the older you get, the faster time seems to fly by.

I think your coolest milestone this month has been the new faces you have learned to make. You now have a sad face, where you purse your bottom lip and drop your eyebrows. You have your surprised face, where you lift your eyebrows as high as they’ll go while flaring your nostrils. And you have your angry face, where you crinkle your nose, lower your eyebrows and crinkle your forehead. Often times when you’re eating, you’ll deliberately employ all of your emotional expressions which clearly indicates that you’re definitely your mother’s daughter and, quite possibly, schizophrenic.

We spent a weekend at your Grandma’s house this weekend. While your mom was getting ready to take Fall photos of you in the front yard, something bit you on the palm of your hand. At first we didn’t think much of it. I somewhat resolved that a fire ant had stung you. An hour later you were still crying in pain. We had no idea what had stung you and had hurt you so badly. Your mom and I both worried that maybe a brown recluse or black widow had stung you. We didn’t see fang marks, so we somewhat set ourselves at ease. It wasn’t until we got back to our house in Austin that the redness on your palm has cleared and we could make out a series of stinger marks on your hand. It was then that we determined that you had been stung by an asp.

The fear of not knowing is what I have learned to be one of the greatest fears for me as your father. I want to be able to fix the wrongs in life for you, and if I don’t know what those wrongs are, I feel useless. Now I know that an asp will hurt you and from here on out, I give you my word that I will forever rid your path of any asps. You can find comfort in knowing that you can go into the fourth grade and when you’re to tell the class what your father does for a living, you can say, “My daddy kicks asp”. And then I’ll have to pay for your speech therapy.

Your uncle Eric came down from Des Moines to spend five days with us this month. Your uncle Eric really loves you and I’m thankful that you’re able to spend time with your extended family. Two extremely valuable things that you learned from Eric during his stay here were “booger” and “danger”. Danger is a good word because now instead of saying, “MALY, NOOOOO!!”, we can say, “Maly, be careful. Daaaaanger!” And then you’ll know that you should stop whatever it is that you’re doing that your mom and I deem as dangerous, and immediately stick your finger into one of your nostrils.

Just this past week you did something that was very cute, yet very frustrating in the same breath. I was taking a shower when you came up to the glass shower door with my eye glasses. You said, “DADDY!! Eyes.” You call my glasses “eyes”.

I said, “Thank you, sugar. Can you please go put Daddy’s eyes on his nightstand?” And you immediately trucked off into the direction of my side of the bed. I went back to bathing myself and proudly thought of my bright young daughter who understands her dad and takes his direction well. It wasn’t until I had finished showering, brushed my teeth and my hair when I walked to the nightstand to put my glasses on. I couldn’t find my glasses where I had instructed you to leave them.

“Maly, where are Daddy’s eyes?” I asked.

You gave me a blank stare. I then looked down at the floor and saw the ear piece of my glasses poking out from underneath one of the throw pillows. I bent down to pick up my glasses and came up with only the ear piece. You had managed to successfully break my glasses.

So Daddy’s eyes are now off limits for you for the time being.

Regardless, I love you today more than ever. I miss you while I’m at work and while you’re asleep at night. I love checking on you before I go to bed and night. I softly rub your head and whisper that I love you. I cherish those moments more than you’ll ever know.

I love you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned 18-months-old this week. You’ve been with us for a year and a half now. It’s amazing that a whole year and a half have flown by. It seems like just last week you were taking your first steps when really that was over six months ago. And every night when I check on you before I go to bed I remember the first night after we brought you home from the hospital and how I spent that evening wondering how our lives were going to change. Since you’ve been with us, life has been nothing short of great.

But with the great comes the bad and the things that nobody likes to do. On Monday your Mom and I took you to the doctor for your 18-month checkup. As usual, you passed with flying colors, including the fact that you’re in the 95% percentile for head size. You have a big noggin. It’s a perfectly shaped and beautiful head, but your body is yet to catch up.

At the end of the doctor’s visit it was time for your booster and flu vaccination. As instructed I sat you on the edge of the examination table with your legs hanging over the edge. The nurse leaned her thighs into your legs to prevent you from kicking. Then I got my hated second set of instructions: to hold your arms down. The nurse proceeded to remove the cap from the booster vaccine and quickly jab it deeply into your left thigh. You immediately screamed and tears quickly started streaming down both sides of your face and onto the table just below your ears. I winced and let up on your arms enough so you could feel as if you had some form of retaliation strength. You cried and screamed. The nurse then removed the cap from the flu vaccine syringe and as quickly as the first, jabbed the needle into your right thigh. You jerked, shrieked, screamed and in a fleeting moment you caught my eye and gave me a look that said, “Daaaaaaddy, how could you EVER let this happen to me?!?!”

The nurse couldn’t put the little Tweety Bird band aids on you quick enough. The moment the second one was on your leg, I scooped you up and pressed you as close as I could to my chest and just started talking to you, trying to distract you from the pain.

I went on to work that morning and couldn’t stop thinking about you all day. Not that I don’t think about you all day, but on this particular day I couldn’t wait to come home and hold you again. I wanted to physically be near you so I could protect you and apologize again for having to let you get hurt. Of course by the time I got home that evening, you were completely normal and had forgotten about your morning of being a pin cushion.

This past month you got to ride a horse for the first time. You and your mom stayed at Grandma’s for a few days while Daddy was in New York on a business trip. One afternoon Grandma, Momma and you visited Tim and Wanda. Wanda took you on a horse ride and, from what I was told, you had a blast. I’m looking forward to the next time we go to visit Grandma because hopefully we can go to Tim and Wanda’s house and I can get to see you ride a horse.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever made mention of your teeth to you in the past. Your Mom suggested that I mention your teeth in this month’s letter. Maly, you have teeth. Eight of them to be exact. Well, I’m sure you have more, but they just haven’t managed to start piercing through your gum line to create an ever-flowing river of snot from your nose and a pain-induced crabby attitude that will most likely leave your mother and I wondering if we should have paid for the extended warranty on you.

Eight teeth. Eight teeth that I have a hell of a time trying to brush. For me, brushing your teeth is about as easy as a three-legged cat trying to bury a turd on a frozen pond. Your Mom seems to have a good system. I’m sort of of the thinking, “I’ll try as best I can, but if I can’t I can fall back on her mom.” Plus, the way I figure it, you’re just going to lose those teeth anyway. And the way that I let you play it’s a miracle you haven’t already knocked a tooth or two out.

One of your most recent past times has been spinning in circles. Just tonight your Mom and I stood in the kitchen and watched you spin and spin in a counter-clockwise circle to the point where you fell forward, bonked your head on the refrigerator door’s edge which then launched you onto your back on the kitchen tile. Then you tried to get up and you fell again. Once you regained your balance, you stood up and just started spinning again. You’re funny like that.

A couple of weeks ago your Mom and I took you to a local neighborhood park. We were lucky in that we had the whole park to ourselves. We watched you as you played on the springy horse, the see-saw, the swings and the merry-go-round. But the playground ride that you liked the most is what you excitedly and affectionately refer to as, “Da Wee”. The rest of us know “da wee” as a slide. You call it “da wee” because whenever you go down the slide your Mom and I both say, “Weeee!” as you descend.

Hearing you say “da wee” has got to be one of my favorite things that you say. Your excitement invigorates me. But in the same breath it makes me scared and sad. Scared and sad that before I know it a slide down da wee won’t captivate you enough. Da wee will be borrowing Daddy’s car just so you can get out of the house to be with your friends instead of Momma and me. In the meantime, I embrace every moment I have with you as I watch you grow and enjoy life behind such an innocent and beautiful smile.

I think the milestone that sticks out the most in my mind this month is kisses and hugs. Nothing melts my heart more than when you give me a kiss and then you throw your arms around my neck. Which is usually followed by, “Oosh?!? Bah bye!!” Which is your way of saying, “Get my shoes, I’m going to work with Daddy!” So, having to leave for work in the mornings has been really hard for me the past month. I generally make it a point to forget something in the house just so I have to come back into the kitchen and get another kiss from you.

There’s just some unwritten, unfathomable pride to having a daughter. The bond I have with you is amazing. There are no words to describe it. I cherish each and every moment I have with you. I cherish you now at 18-months and I will cherish you the same at 18-years and even then beyond yours and my scope of existence.

I love you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned 17-months-old today. You’re growing so fast that it’s hard to keep track of the day-to-day changes and all of the little miracles that you create. Every day you surprise us with a new word, expression or talent.

This month has been full of many milestones. The most significant has been your learning to test us. I can see it now: Your first day at school. The teacher asks, “Hi, cutie! What’s your name?” To which you will politely reply, “Maly.” The teacher will then ask, “What’s your full name?” And your quick retort will be, “Maly NO!”

One day while I was at work, your mom and you had a little altercation. Momma and you were playing on the bed. You ran across the bed and then stepped onto my night stand. Your mom quickly established the rule that those that live in the house and measure in at less than 5 feet are not to stand on night stands. Your mom said, “NO, No, Nooooooo!” You immediately turned to look at her, wrinkled your forehead, waved your index side to side, and said, “NOOO, NOOO, NOO, NOOO, NO!!!”

Your mom and I have been trying to employ the technique of removing you from any situation that you’re not supposed to be engaged in and then explain to you why you oughtn’t be doing whatever it is you’re doing. We really, really try this technique, but a lot of times it’s just quicker to say “no.”

You’re becoming more an more independent every day. You did something a few days ago that just about brought a tear to my eye. In these first 17 months of your life, I’ve probably given you 95% of your baths. Whenever we’re done with bath time, you would stand up in the tub and hold your hands up to me as I sat on the edge of the tub. I would lift you up and onto the towel on my lap. On this particular evening, instead of lifting your arms up to me, you just threw one leg up and over the edge of the tub pulled yourself out of the bath. Then you stood there and looked to me to dry you off while you stood there, instead of drying you while snuggling on my lap.

You have a ton of new words that you use regularly now. I think the cutest is “Meemee.” That means “Maly” in your vocabulary. You clearly say, mama, daddy, ditty (kitty), Annie, lally (Riley), ish (fish), burr (bird), ball, pool, oosh (shoes), ouch, ice, wiwwy (Willy – the ‘ish’) and Noooooooo!

You can point to your eyes, ears, cheeks, head, elbow, mouth, nose. You know who your babies are. You run to the bathroom when I say it’s time for your bath. You know exactly which buttons turn on and off my alarm clock. You tell me, “Bay bye” every morning when I leave for work. And you excitedly repeat, “Daddy?!” to Mom when I get home in the evenings.

You love your books. I’m not much of a book reader. I think you’re going to turn me into one. We have a bookshelf in your room that is completely full of books. I have to read at least five books to you every night. Who knows how many books your mom reads to you during the day. You LOVE your books. And I’m proud of that.

I’m proud of you for everything that you are. You’re such an amazing little girl. I love living life through you each and every day. I wish I had more time to do that on a day-to-day basis. I’m thankful that I have the woman that I love to be there when I can’t.

You’ve made me laugh more than I’ve ever laughed before. I love putting you on my shoulders and walking you around the grocery store. I love having meaningless conversations with you. I love that you telling me, “NOO, NOO, NOO!!” means that YOU shouldn’t be digging into the cat food. I love putting you down to bed and watching you put your fingers into your mouth as you get yourself ready for bed.

I love thinking that your mom and I are doing the right things for you. We’re trying hard for you.

I love you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned 16-months-old today. Today is your first sweet sixteen and I’m not with you to enjoy it. You’re on vacation in Des Moines with your Mom, Boppa and Gran. It’s been four days since I last saw you and I really miss you.

You’ve experienced many milestones this month, most of which are clear indications that you’ve become a sponge. You’re neurons are firing on all cylinders and you’re on a quest for knowledge and to experiment with how the rest of society will react to your newfound wisdom.

You’re beginning to refine your vocabulary. A few weeks ago while your mom was bathing you, you picked up your green rubber duck, held it out to show your mom and said, “This duck”. I wasn’t in the bathroom to witness this monumental occasion but your mom was quick to call me in to give me the news. My inclination is to take credit for teaching you the word ‘duck’ because I usually give you your bath. Your mom is really good about reading to your and teaching you new things so I’m sure she was very instrumental in teaching you the word duck. “This” is a word I think you picked up on your own. Or, when you said it, it was just by happenstance. Either way, what is important here is that you know what a duck is. Unfortunately, when we take you to a duck pond for the first time, you probably won’t know what we’ve taken you to see because real ducks aren’t green. Or rubber.

Your mom and I have determined that your first real word was “baby”. You have baby GG that your cousin Grant bought for you while we were in San Diego in June. Your Grandma also bought you a baby doll that we’ve yet to name. You love both of your babies and you even know which one is GG. Now instead of “baba”, you say “baby!” And every time you say it, you say it with such enthusiasm. “BAYBAAAAY!!!!” You love to run to get your babies and hold them and hug them. It’s so cute to watch your nurturing side for the eight seconds before you drop babies on their heads onto the hardwood floor to be forgotten about as you scurry off to play with an electric outlet or to go splashing in the cats’ water bowl.

You also know the word “more” very well now. We taught you months ago a sign where you point your index finger to the opposite palm if you want more food. Every time you do this hand motion, we ask, “do you want more?”, to which you would be given more food. Over the past few weeks you’ve taught yourself to say “mo” while gesturing with your hands upon our inquiry. We recently made the mistake of giving you a sampling of a Twizzler. This innocent and loving gesture of a treat turned you into a Twizzler fiend. Without even a notion of offering, you immediately gestured and said, “mo, mo, mo, mo, mo, mo, mo MO MO MO!!!! DAMNIT I NEED ANOTHER TWIZZLER BEFORE I START BUSTING SOME FRIGGIN’ SKULLS!!!”

You’ve become quite astute in that you try very hard to mimic our words:

“Maly, this a fish”

“tssssh”

“This is a ball”

“Baaa”

“Maly, where’s my eye?”

“eye”

“Where’s my mouth?”

“mowa”

“What’s the kitty say?

“yeow”

“What does the dog say?”

“mooooooo”

“No, silly, a dog says ‘wuff’”

“woof woof”

“What does a donkey say”

“Hell, I don’t know, Dad, just go get me another one of those Twizzlahhhhhs!”

I’ve been informed and have witnessed on a few occasions that you have a flash temper. You get this from your Mom and me both. You’re now experimenting with hitting. You’ll get frustrated with your mom and you’ll slap at her. This really frustrates your mom. We’re both trying to determine how to prevent you from physically lashing out and slapping. You and Mom went to the library last week and checked out a book entitled, “Hands Are Not For Hitting”. So now whenever you try to hit at either one of us or another object or cat, we try to grab your hands and say, “hands are not for hitting, they’re for…” I haven’t had to endure many of these mini-psychological remapping endeavors. I think it’s just you testing what will get a reaction out of your mom or me. And you’re entitled to that. You and your mom can go to the library. I’m going to Costco and buying a palette of Twizzlers.

I guess you’re considered a toddler now. This means you toddle around and absorb everything you can. While I’m not around during the day, you Mom is left to her own devices in which to train you, for the most part, to be a functioning “tween”, which means at that point, I will be employed to teach you that boys are bad and that the music that Dad listens to while driving you and your friends to the mall is real music.

As you’ve toddled around the house as of late, you’ve maintained a significant level of codependency. So much so that you’ve predisposed yourself to follow your Mom to the bathroom. Her closing the door isn’t really an option in that you get really upset if you’re not tended to or if you’re ignored when a faction of the parental unit has to “tend to business.”

I think your Mom is embarrassed but I think it’s hilarious whenever we’re in public and you find yourself with a napkin or a tissue and, with solid research, go about making motions with said paper product towards your crotch. You know how to wipe. You’re such a clever kid.

I’m so happy that you’re learning so much. I’m happy that you’re such a blessing and a joy to be around. I’m enlightened and invigorated when I watch you embrace what your mom and I are trying to teach you. I love watching you grow. I’m amazed when I look at photos of you from a mere three months ago and realize how much you’ve grown and changed. But I find comfort in knowing that you’re my little girl. You’ll always be my little girl.

I really miss you right now. I wish you were here so I could hug you, give you kisses and say “Maly, you’re 16-months-old today!!!”

I’m so proud of you and am so happy that you’re growing into your own. Every day greets me with an opportunity to step back into my childhood through you. The circle of life is starting to make sense to me now. And I thank you for bringing me into that circle.

You’ll probably never know how much I truly love and cherish you. Only I know and I just wish I could put it into words.

I love you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned 15-months-old this week. As always, as each month passes, you continue to learn and do more things that always leave your Mom and I to stand back and observe in awe.

Just last week while your Mom was running errands, I took you outside onto the deck in the backyard so you could run around and wear yourself out before your bath and bed time. Your first inclination was to run over to and climb into your plastic baby pool. Before you got in, I swooped you up and pulled off your diaper. I did this because the last time you got into your pool with your diaper on, I was left with the task of draining the pool and all of its “contents” after your swim.

So this time you got in and out of your pool over and over while wearing nothing more than a t-shirt. You got out of the pool and walked over to the passion vine to smell one of the flowers. You stood there for a moment and then briskly walked away to head back to your pool. I happened to look down and see what you had left sitting on the deck. In that fleeting moment you circled back and also took notice of what you’d dropped off. Without hesitation you began to reach down to pick up and observe what used to be part of you.

With ninja-like reflexes, I again scooped you up and removed you from the situation. With you in one arm, we went back into the house where I put on my Haz-Mat suit and removed the Maly morsel from the deck with roughly 23 paper towels and an exhausted gag reflex.

This month has allowed you to spend a lot of time with your extended family. In late-June we took you to San Diego to spend time with your aunts, uncles and cousins. It was in southern California where you first experienced the ocean. You loved walking up to the water and watching your feet disappear into the sand as the tide pulled back to sea. The motion of the water rushing back into the ocean set you off balanced and caused you to follow over countless times. Your adrenaline saved you from noticing the cold Pacific waters but soon it took its toll. Your skin started going pale and your lips and finger tips blue. You wore yourself out quickly and your Mom and I thought you might have suddenly gotten sick. We dried you and changed you on the beach where your Mom let you lie on her chest for warmth and rest.

This past weekend we were in Oklahoma for the Tamaat family reunion. Tamaat is your Great Grandma B.’s maiden name and she comes from a very large immediate family as does your Boppa. You were able to see 7 of Boppa’s 8 siblings at the farmhouse in Okeene. You also met a lot of the cousins. I’d go into greater detail but you will get to know them all in your own way soon enough. Hopefully it’ll take you less than the 8 years it has taken me to finally be able to comfortably approach a relative at Thanksgiving dinner and greet them by name instead of them having to re-introduce his or herself for the twentieth time.

You’re very lucky to have the family that you have. I hope that you grow to appreciate that. Since you’ve come into my life, I have deep regrets about not having made more of an effort to know and appreciate my family and lineage from an earlier start. Maybe if I had, I’d better understand the whole pooping on the deck thing.

You’re learning new words and fixing old words that you once mispronounced. What used to be “baba” is now “baby”. You have two babies. One that your cousin Grant gave you while we were in San Diego and one that Luke and Jadon gave you just recently. You love your babies and you give them both big hugs. You know how to give wonderful hugs and kisses now. You give your Mom hugs and you give me kisses. You might be giving me hugs as well but I interpret that as “pick me up and protect me.” So, invariably, I pick you up, hold you as close to me as I possibly can and kiss the side of your head countless times.

I think you’ve become a nurturer as I watch you protect and care for your babies; the same way that your Mom and I do you. Your Mom and I only have our instincts and recollections of how our parents raised us. I speak for both of us when I say that I’m proud of you for your nurturing disposition and your inherent knowledge of the Golden Rule.

You’ve always been and are continuing to grow into a beautiful person. Your laugh is still infectious. Your smile can melt any heart. Your desire to say “hi” to every stranger is admirable and commendable. Your quest for knowledge is motivational. Your spontaneity and daringness makes me proud. Your genuine love for everyone and everything is inspirational. You are truly beautiful.

But your poop still stinks.

I love you so amazingly much and find myself baffled that I, as your parent, strive so hard to teach you new things but as I sit back once a month to write my letter to you, I realize that you are the one teaching me so many things.

I love you, Sugar

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned 14-months-old a week and a half ago. I’m sorry this letter to you is late. We were on vacation in San Diego last week visiting your aunts, uncles and cousins.

I’m going to keep this particular letter to you short as I will have another one for you in the next couple weeks. Your major milestones for this past month were: 1) You’ve boycotted putting anything green into your mouth that isn’t dashed with Lawry’s Seasoned Salt or drenched in ranch dressing. 2) You don’t like HEB’s Hill Country Fair ice cream. 3) Your poop still makes me gag despite my ever-growing, exponential love for you and everything that is non-poop-related. 4) Your first top tooth poked through. 5) You suffered from a minor bout with Roseola. 6) You fell onto your face and busted your lip which made your mouth swell enough to the point where I suffered from a day-long anxiety attack that left me gasping for air, and 7) You’ve grown up and out, learned to say “eye” and point when we ask you “where’s Daddy’s eye?”; “Mama” when we ask “where’s Mama?”; “Dada” when we ask, “where’s Daddy?”; “Burr” when we ask, “where’s the bird?”; “Baaa” when we ask, “where’s the ball?” and, on rare and beloved occasion, when I say, “give Daddy a kiss”, you pucker up, lean forward and give me a kiss.

You’ve become so interactive and responsive. You’re such a precious gift. I anxiously look forward to you growing and learning new things but, in the same breath, I want you to stay where you are — as my perfect little baby girl.

I love you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned 13-months-old today. Your crowning achievement has been that you learned to walk. Your mom and I had very little involvement in this process other than the bewilderment we endured as we witnessed a breathtaking milestone from our little human. Last month you were able to stand for a few moments and now, here you are, completely mobile.

It probably took you all of a couple days to learn to walk. You went from taking a couple steps and falling back onto your butt to a full and confident walk.

I’m really hoping I can get you to start mowing the yard before summer’s gone.

You purposely sit in my lap now. I will sit on the ground with you while you are playing and you will walk over to your toys and pick up a ball or you will walk to the cat a yank a tuft of fur and then walk back to me and do a belly flop onto my lap. You will then pull yourself up, nestle and sit in my lap while waving whatever toy in front of you. We’ll sit there, facing the same direction for a minute or so and you’ll have to awkwardly climb out of my lap only to walk around and then return to belly flop onto my lap and begin the process again.

You think fart noises are really funny. I think that’s funny because I also think fart noises are funny. We’ll both hear a fart noise, real or fabricated, and we’ll both giggle. You really think they’re funny when I’m laughing. And when you laugh, I only laugh harder. And what gets me going is when you laugh at your own farts. I really need to get this on video so I have something to show at your rehearsal dinner.

We bought barrettes for you yesterday. Your hair is getting longer and the barrettes help keep it manageable while also giving a subtle clue to those who think we like to dress our long-haired Dutch boy in pink.

The Saturday before last your mom was out running errands. You and I were sitting in the grass in the front yard and a little beetle-like bug flew over and landed on the back of my hand. I got your attention and pointed to the bug. You stared at it inquisitively and just at the point where I thought you would have reached your finger out to touch the bug, it flew off of my hand and onto your thigh. You noticed that the bug was suddenly gone, but didn’t know where it went. I pointed to the bug on your leg. You looked down, saw the bug on you and immediately stood up and jumped into my arms, throwing your arms around my neck. You were afraid of the bug and you wanted me to save you. My first reaction was a little laugh. Then my instincts and heart lodged themselves in my throat when I then experienced the greatest feeling I have ever known. You wanted and trusted me to save you. To help you. To shield you. To hold you and to make the bad go away. You threw yourself at me because you knew that I would protect you.

I will remember that day for the rest of my life. I will remember the way, without hesitation, you looked at that little bug and then to me, and the lunge you took toward me. You didn’t look back for the bug. You just held on to me until I assured you that it was okay.

The bug encounter couldn’t have lasted more than ten seconds, but those ten seconds changed my life. It’s truly amazing how the smallest things, be it a bug or a fleeting moment, are the things that end up mattering the most.

I will always protect you. And make fart noises as long as they still make you laugh. As long as you’re happy, safe and laughing, I’ll find solace in knowing that I’m here, doing what I’m supposed to do.

I love you, sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned 12-months-old today. You’re a year old. So much has happened in a year and I couldn’t be more thankful and blessed to have had you here with me. You’ve been such a wonderful little girl.

You’ve been so happy, healthy and have helped realize what’s really important in this world.

Your major milestone this month were your first steps. You starting standing on your own last month, but it was a few days ago when you first attempted biped mobility. You made it a step and a half and flopped down onto your butt. Later that day your mom and I put you between us and handed you off to one another. You made it a good three steps before you lunged into my arms.

It’s so amazing to watch you grow. It’s nearly impossible to notice on a day-to-day basis, but I look at photos of you from only a month ago and it’s unreal how much you’ve changed. You’re successfully morphing into what you were sent here to do: walk, talk, poop, cry, laugh, fart, ask me for money, eat all of the food in the house and, with your infinite micro powers, harness what little hair I have left on my head and suck it through my scalp, into my brain where it will disintegrate any will power against you and stop to live comfortably while dangling an inch from either ear.

Now that you’re a lot more mobile, I can really see you’re gaining a sense of independence. At first I was scared. It was shorty after that you relieved me of that fear. Whenever we’re playing on the ground, you’ll occasionally stop and look up at me just so you can make sure that I’m still there watching you. Whenever I crawl on the floor after you while growling and saying, “I’m unna gitchoo!”, you’ll crawl like mad and then belly flop so you’re assured that I will, in fact, get you. I then kiss you on the cheek and you giggle such a happy giggle. I’ll then pick you up and throw you into the air and catch you on you way down while saying, “Weeeeeeee!!!” and you scream with joy. I’ll put you on my shoulders and trot around the house like a horse and you shriek and laugh. You’ll poop and then I just hand you over to your mom.

Your mom and I are so lucky to have you. There is an ancient Swahili song called, “Bwana, anakawuita” which, if I remember correctly, is about a traveling white man who receives a gift because when he arrived for dinner at a local tribesman’s hut, the tribesman was so embarrassed because his children had stayed up all the night prior, updating their MySpace pages and had since neglected to put away their Xbox360 games. So, the tribesman gave the traveler a goat as a significant gesture of sort. You see, it’s all about sacrifice and love. Your mom and I have sacrificed our love for you. Or would love to sacrifice you. I can’t remember.

My point is, your mom and I love you more than you will ever know. We’ve made sacrifices but so far, they’ve all been for the better. We’ve learned to love each other more so that you will grow up in a loving family and know how to love as well. When I come home from work, I kick the cat while walking through the garage door, fart while entering the kitchen, kiss your mom and then lovingly announce, “Wait’ll you smell that!” It’s at about that point where you notice my grand entrance, look up at me, smile and wave your Little Miss Universe wave and then I find solace in knowing that you just witnessed what real love is.

My real point is: I love you. Your mom and you mean the world to me. You’ve made me laugh like I’ve never laughed before. You’ve made me laugh harder than anybody else has. You’ve made me have nightmares that I never thought I’d have; nightmares where I thought I was going to lose you. You’ve made me cry like I’ve never cried before. The day after your were born I cried in the parking lot of the hospital while sitting alone in the truck. I had just driven back from having dinner with my parents and was returning to spend this night with your mom and you. I put the truck in park and without warning, I cried in a way that I didn’t know was possible to cry. I was so happy, nervous, excited, scared, confused and proud. We hadn’t even chosen a name for you yet. I just knew that my little girl was in that hospital that stood before me and I was her dad.

I love you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned 11-months-old today. Despite my efforts, I can’t seem to stop time. It’s seems like just yestereday you turned 10-months-old. In another month, you’ll be a year old. I’m really good with math like that. When you experience something in life that is known as “algebra”, we’ll take a family vacation.

As I write this, you are in your crib in your room, crying. Your Mom is out with her friends for their monthly girls night out. You and I played, you ate dinner, I bathed you, brushed your hair and put you down after walking around the house with you in my arms – just like when you were a newborn and I would walk you around the house and talk to you so you would fall asleep. It brought back fond memories holding you with my left arm and using my right had to cup the side of your head while playing with your hair with my thumb. You seemed tired, so I put you down in your crib and, with super hero gusto, bolted for the door and closed it behind me before you noticed I was gone. It seemed like you would fall asleep immediately but you stirred a few minutes later. I think you miss your Mom.

You’re becoming such a little person now. You easily feed yourself and you like everything that we give you to eat. You’re really starting to interact and talk to us now. You’re such a smart little girl, too. You know what the ceiling fan is, you know what the light is, you know what Mom’s and my nose and eyes are, you know what kitties are as well.

You also know that I get mad when you hit me in the face. I don’t think you understand what “mad” is, but rather, you know hitting in the face gets a reaction so apparenty that’s fun to you. We’re working on this hitting thing. I told you that I was a second degree blackbelt but that didn’t seem to phase you. When you’re able to stand more than ten seconds on your own, we can start sparring and I’ll show you what’s up. Seriously, it’s one of those things that babies do and your Mom and I have to figure out how to be good parents and fix your little slappy happy habit.

You caught a really nasty cold while on a road trip to Oklahoma with your Mom, John, Christine, Jack and Grayson. When your Mom and you came back home, you were horribly miserable. Your eyes were red and you could only open them 3/4 of the way. You were so weak and worn out. Your nose kept running and you had a nasty cough. I felt so bad for you and wished I could have fixed your hurts for you. Your Mom took you to the doctor where you were prescribed antibiotics and ear drops because the doctor thought you had an ear infection.

Your Mom and you took the prescription in to the pharmacy and went home. I came home from work to see you sad and sick. I went to the pharmacy to pick up your medicine. While waiting in line, I fought back tears. I hated that you were sick. I hated that my little girl was feeling so bad and there was nothing that I could do to fix it. I didn’t like thinking that we were going to have to give you antibiotics after we’ve been so good about feeding you the right foods and were vigilent in not giving you anything synthetic.

You’re feeling 100% better now and I’m so happy to have my little girl back to normal. You’re spunky and excited about everything again and EVERYTHING that you point to is a “Doh, doh, doh!!!” You’re too cute.

Your hair is getting longer and longer and it’s so beautiful. I’m jealous. Believe me when I tell you that I once had hair. Your hair is such a beautiful golden blonde. I love to play with it while your distracted playing with your toys. I always thought I’d shave a mohawk on my child’s head because I’m weird like that, but now I would never dream of doing anything with your hair. It’s so gorgeous and I can’t wait until it gets even longer so your Mom can laugh at me because I wholeheartedly tried to put your hair into pigtails but end up with a mash of hair above your forehead and another behind your right ear.

I can’t believe that in one month you’ll be a year old. In twenty years, you’ll still be my little girl. I love you so much and never thought that it was humanly possible to cherish someone other than your Mom as much. I’m so proud that you’re from such a loving family. I’m so proud of you.

I love you so much. My chest swells when I look at you and hear your giggle. I’m so thankful for you and I promise that I will do everything that I can do to make you giggle, keep you from getting sick or feeling hurt and teach you to love the way that I love you.

I love you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned ten-months-old today. You’re now into the double digits. Just from looking at pictures of you, it’s amazing to see how much you’ve changed and grown in just a month. You’re such a pretty girl and every moment I spend with you makes me just that much prouder of you. It’s undeniable that you’re my child due to your outward appearance, but sometimes I think you’re just too cute to be from my gene pool. Your hair is getting so long and it’s a gorgeous straw-colored blonde. We thought your eyes would have decided by now if they were going to change to either brown or blue. It’s looking like they’re going to stay brue. Or blown. Or stone. You have a very beautiful eye color. Very unique – just like you.

You reached many milestones this month. You cut your first two teeth in late January. They’re your bottom front teeth and as each day passes they grow bigger and bigger. Gone are the days of your empty toothless smile. You have choppers now. I’m anticipating the day when your mom tells me that you bit her while nursing.

Since you have teeth now, we’ve let you start eating solid foods that you can pick up with your hands and put into your mouth yourself. We started you with these little star shaped Gerber “Puffs”. It wasn’t but a few days after that when we started letting you try all kinds of new finger foods. You now eat green beans, ground turkey, potatoes, asparagus, mozzarella, grapes, mango. It’s so much fun to watch you eat on your own. You do an awesome job of feeding yourself and there isn’t a food yet that we’ve found that you don’t like.

Except little pieces of broken screwdriver handles.

Your Grandma was here for my birthday a couple of weeks ago and while you were crawling around on the kitchen floor, you found a little tiny piece of a screwdriver handle. You don’t ordinarily put random objects into your mouth so I watched you as you crawled around on the floor, toting your little piece of broken plastic, sitting yourself up occasionally to say, “oooh oooh ooooh oooh” as you held your treasure in your hand in front of you. I turned my attention to something else in the kitchen and turned and looked down as you started to crawl away and made a wretched gagging sound and a pool of drool spilled onto the tile in front of you. I watched you for a second to make sure that you were okay. You sat there on all fours silent and not moving. With Super Sonic Daddy Hearing I then heard you silently gasp for air as the piece of plastic had lodged in your throat. I ran over to you, scooped you up, held you face down, horizontal to the ground and slapped you hard enough on the back that, if you weren’t choking, would have warranted a visit from Child Protective Services.

The piece of plastic came out. You were scared from the whole ordeal. I was scared, too. After I held you, kissed you, told you it was going to be okay, you stopped crying. I put you in your high chair as your mom started getting your lunch ready. I stood there next to you and ran my fingers through your hair. Your Grandma asked me, “You’re worried about her, aren’t you?” to which I lied and said, “Nah…” Your Grandma looked at me and said, “You’re a good dad.”

I can’t put into words how much you mean to me. I try very hard to be a good Dad for you. The love I have for you is something that only a parent knows; only my love is a gazillion times more.

Yesterday was your first Valentine’s Day. I bought you a fancy pink dress with flowers sewn into it. Your mom was shocked that I bought something so “girly”. I also got you a Valentine’s Day card. Your mom went to Double Daves last night to pick up our dinner and while she was out I wrote a message to you in your card. You sat in your high chair and ate asparagus and ground turkey as I wrote to you. I don’t know why, but I got teary eyed at that moment. I guess I was reveling in how happy I am to be your dad. I hope that one day when you’re much older, over the phase where you hate me (sometimes referred to as the “teens”), and possibly even married and have a daughter of your own that you’ll read that card and know that I tried my best to be the best dad that I could.

I love you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned nine-months-old today. Nine months is a huge number in my mind. Nine months is how long you lived inside of your Mom. Nine months of pure bliss in learning about pregnancy, labor and delivery and your Mom and me bonding even closer than than the day that we swore among family and friends that we would be together forever. Prior to that, the concept of “my daughter” and who you’ve actually turned out to be is beyond comprehension. If someone where to ask me, “Explain what it’s like to be a Dad.” I would answer that question with a question and ask, “Have you met my baby?” And you would do the rest of the talking. You would point and give a huge smile with your toothless grin which would fill the room happiness and immediately make everyone realize that life really is good. You’re just that kind of person.

Our favorite thing to do now is play after I’ve given you a bath. I set you down on the bed with your towel still wrapped around you and our game begins. After you’re mostly dry, I throw whatever part of the towel that isn’t wrapped around your body over your head and then I sneak my head up behind yours and whisper, “Where’s Maly? Where’s Maly?” And you start giggling and try to start crawling away with the towel still covering your face. I keep my head next to yours and keep whispering into your ear, “Where’s Maly?” You always give in and lie on your stomach and pull your face under your arm and giggle, all the while knowing that I’ll always be there, right behind you.

We’ve also created a new game this month that I like to call the “Suicide Game”. After you’ve dried off, I take towel off and let your crawl around the bed. It’s then that I start saying, “I’m gonna get you!!” You start laughing and crawling to the opposite side of the bed. I crawl on the floor beside the bed in the direction in which you’re heading. You laugh uncontrollably as you crawl while watch my head traveling to the same side of the bed as you. The bad habit we’ve established is that you don’t stop when you get to the edge of the bed. Well, you do stop for a moment, but I think you wait until I get there before you take your “leap of faith”. You took your first leap on accident and luckily I was there to catch one of your legs and keep you from landing head-first onto the bedroom floor. Now you always assume that I’m going to catch your legs and swing you upside down and make you giggle. It’s a bad habit that we’ve gotten ourselves into but it’s A LOT of fun. Just don’t tell your Mom. I hope that when I’m really old and you have to take care of me that you’ll swing me around by the ankles and make fart noises on my stomach when I go to launch myself off of your bed!

Speaking of habits. It’s been a few months since you grew out of your baby bathtub that I used to bathe you in. When I first starting bathing you in the big tub, I was trying to find the way in which it was most convenient for me to bathe you. I decided to kick off my flip flops and sit on the edge of the tub with my feet in the water with you. Now that the weather is getting colder, I have to take off my shoes, socks and roll up my jeans in order to partially get in the tub with you. I don’t know what age you’ll be when you can take baths by yourself but if you find yourself at 13-years-old and I’m walking to the bathroom with you while wearing capri pants and no shoes, you might want to say, “Hey Dad, I’ve got it figured out now. And you really shouldn’t be wearing my capri pants.”

Your Grandpa B. gave me a set of iPod speakers for Christmas this year. I decided to put them in your bathroom so we could listen to music while I give you a bath. We always listen 70′s country music because it reminds me of my Dad. We like to listen to Tom T. Hall, Crystal Gayle, Waylon Jennings, Freddie Fender, Charlie Pride, Willy Nelson and the rest. I try to sing to you and I think I do a pretty good job considering the bathroom’s acoustics. You don’t complain so I guess we have a pretty good time. I look forward to bath days because you and I have time to play and you really like the water. When you’re old enough, I’m thinking that I’ll buy a boat, just like my Dad did and you can learn to water ski and fish.

You had your first Christmas this year. Again you played the role of my little angel. I don’t know if I could’ve made it through the day without an emotional breakdown had you not been there with me. You sat in my lap the entire time while we all opened presents. I gave your Grandma a card that told her how thankful I was to have had the Dad that I had. I also told her that I was proud and thankful for her and my Dad. I watched her open the card and read it as I was clutching you in my lap. Your Grandma and I made eye contact long enough to share a heartfelt thought of missing your Grandpa. I was really sad at that point and wished that your Grandpa could have been there to kiss you and say, “Merry Christmas, Sugar!”

I gave your Mom a card that I wrote by hand. On it was a poem from the card that Grandpa gave to Grandma the year before he died. It was an emotional day for me but I’m glad that I had you there with me to help me through it. I think you really helped your Grandma too.

You thoroughly enjoyed your first Christmas. You got all kind of fun presents and even better, wrapping paper and bows! I’m glad you were able to spend your first Christmas in Des Moines with your family. I’m also glad that you were born into a family that loves each other so much.

Other parents have told me that they can’t imagine life without their children. You’ve made me realize how true that is. There are no words to describe the joy that you’ve brought to me. If I’ve had a bad day, you make all of the bad disappear the moment I hold you in my arms. For being such a little person, you sure have a lot of power.

You never cease to amaze me. You’ve taught yourself to crawl almost fast enough to keep up with me as I walk about the house. You pull yourself up onto your feet by using my legs, pat the back of my knees and say, “Huuuuh!! Huuuuhhh!!” when you want me to pick you up. You point and smile at strangers. You love to giggle as you look at yourself in the mirror.

You’re very outgoing but very bashful at the same time. You smile and point at me and then turn your head ever so slightly while pulling your shoulders up to your ears while you watch me out of the corner of your eye and giggle and snort.

Sometimes we’ll look at each other from across the room and we’ll both just start laughing. We have an amazing bond that means the world to me.

It’s true: I can’t imagine life without you. You make me smile and laugh in ways that I never knew were possible. I love and cherish every moment that I have with you. And every moment that I have with you is the best moment of my life.

I love you, Sugar!

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned eight-months-old today. What happened to seven-months-old?… It seems like just yesterday! You’re such a fun kid and now that I’m back in the working world I’m so jealous of your Mom who gets to be with you all day. I think about you constantly during those hours of the week when I’m not with you. I imagine you absorbing the world around you and smile with such pride when I think about you and your infectious laughter.

This month you’ve become very fascinated with cat food. We set you on the floor to see if there’s any new baby land speed records you can break and, for whatever reasons, you always make a B-line for the cat dish. To the best of my knowledge you have not yet sampled cat food, but you really like hunting it. I can tell you it doesn’t taste very good, but I guess you’ll figure that out on your own soon enough.
Speaking of mobility: you stand up frequently on your own now. You crawl to wherever it is you think you need to be and then you pull yourself up and stand. You’re starting to “walk” with help from whatever inanimate object, cat or my leg hair you use to brace yourself.

This month you figured out how to make “D” sounds. You say, “Dadadada da da daaaaaa da daaaa”. For my own reasons I know you’re saying “Dad” and it makes my heart swell like you can’t imagine.

Since you’re so mobile now you have a tendency to fall. However, when you fall you have a tendency to hit your head on things. This is the course of nature. Thankfully you haven’t had too terrible of a spill, but you keep your Mom and me on pins and needles. I’ve thought about either adorning you or the entire house with Nerf technology.

You had your first Thanksgiving last month. We went to your Grandma’s house and for our Thanksgiving dinner we ate the dove that your Grandpa shot before he left us. A few days prior you came down with a stomach virus that you passed on to your Mom and me during Thanksgiving. That meant we weren’t able to make our trip to Okeene, Oklahoma for the annual Boeckman Thanksgiving weekend. Your Mom and I were both pretty upset because 1) we were fighting over the bathroom and 2) because we weren’t able to show you off to your aunts, uncles, cousins and your Great Grandma B.

I’ve been having a hard time getting into the holiday spirit this year. 2006 has been a very hard year for me. I’ve had my extreme ups, downs and down furthers to the point where I’ve questioned my own sanity. I am so happy to have you to help me maintain that inkling of sanity. Your Mom and I have such a close bond that is so amazing to me and the bond that you and I have is so amazing as well in that you’re a living representation of us. It’s like you’re here to somehow protect and guide us.

You’re really starting to establish your sense of humor. You love to laugh, but now you like to do things to make your Mom and me laugh, which makes you laugh even more. I’m so glad you’re a happy baby. You can be a little moody at times and I’m not going to name names, but you get that trait from someone with a name similar to Dadadada da da daaaaaa da daaaa.

You’re such an amazing and fun child who is a joy to be around. This isn’t the calm before some hellride of a storm, is it? Even if we are in for some screams and tantrums during teething or fits while fighting sleep, I can’t help but love you more and more and press my kisses harder onto your cheeks.

I love you, Maly.

Love,

Daddy

P.S. You can have WHATEVER you want for Christmas.

Dear Maly,

You turned seven months old today. You’re over half a year old now and you’re more amazing than I’d ever fathomed.

This month has been nothing short of spectacular and I couldn’t be more enthused about being jobless because I’ve gotten to witness all of your new and exciting accomplishments.

For your first milestone this month: you sat up on your own. Your Mom was by the vanity in our bathroom and I was in the bedroom when I turned, looked down and saw you just sitting there. I asked your Mom, “Did you sit her up?” to which she replied no. We both missed you sitting up on your own for the first time but after that first time, you’ve become a master.

Earlier this month you started crawling. You used to do your low crawl/belly flop but now you’ve got your full-on crawl down. You’re mobile and that much more independent now. I now see how I could once find comfort in setting you down at a particular spot, turn around and find you still at that same spot moments later. This is no longer the case. It’s scary because you’re able to crawl away and get into things that might hurt or scare you, but it’s beautiful when you see me, smile and rush-crawl to my feet and anxiously wait for me to pick you up and give you kisses and make you giggle.

Not but a few days after you figured out how to crawl, you figured out how to pull yourself up onto your feet. Your Mom went to get you from your crib after you had awaken from a nap and there your were, standing up on your own two feet with your hands on the crib rail for support.

You experienced your first Halloween this year. Well, there wasn’t really much for you to experience — Instead your Mom and I experienced immense laughter after dressing you up as a purple dragon. We spent Halloween with John, Christine, Jack and Grayson. Jack trick-or-treated while you sat in the little red wagon and sucked on your fingers. Next year we’ll really take you trick-or-treating. I’m thinking about dressing you up as Reagan from The Exorcist.

Speaking of demonic possession — you started growling this month. You and I play a lot throughout the course of the day and on one occasion I growled and you growled back. Since then you growl whenever you feel like… uh, growling. You’re so hilarious when you do it, though.

You’re turning into such an unbelievable and amazing person. Every day you do something new that makes me so happy and proud – they’re always small victories but those are the ones that count. Just this past Sunday you looked at your Mom and me and pointed to the overhead lights at Fry’s. It wasn’t that big of a deal to you, but for me, it showed that you’re really interacting with the world around you.

I look forward to and embrace all of your daily discoveries. I love being next to you when you take on new challenges and experience your environment. But what I love the most is when you stop for that fleeting moment and turn and look up at me sitting next to you and smile that heart-melting smile. If I could bottle and sell that sensation I would be the richest man in the world — but I would never do that because that is something meant for only me — and I love you so much for giving that to me.

I love you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned six-months-old today. I can’t believe half a year has gone by since the day we met. Each month you become more amazing and brilliant and I fear the day when you outwit me. I have a gut feeling I’ll be writing about that experience in next month’s letter to you.

Last month we started feeding you “solids”. By “solid” I mean a small bowl of breast milk dusted with rice cereal, oatmeal or barley. As the month progressed, we slowly began thickening your meals with more cereal and less milk. Now you’re eating human food. If it were up to me you’d already be eating bacon, venison, dove and ribeyes. According to those in-the-know you’re supposed to eat vegetables and fruits first. Your first real human food was mashed avocado. Second was banana. Third were peas and most recent were prunes. And what’s best is your Mom has made all of these meals for you by hand. What’s even better is that they were not in the form of a casserole.

You sit up really well now and have started scooting across the floor on your stomach. You can push yourself up onto your hands and knees and you get a great rocking start, but you usually just end up perpetrating a low-flying belly flop that trajects you only an inch or so. But you do it with such enthusiasm and dedication. Scooting — you have that down like a dog with tapeworm, except you scoot on your belly versus your butt. I can set you on the floor and turn away for a moment only to turn back to find that you’ve moved a couple feet to the nearest delicious electric cord.

Your Mom and I bought a swing for you a couple weeks ago and you LOVE it. The sound of your laughter when I swung you for the first time melted my heart. Our front yard faces west so I installed the swing so your back is to the afternoon sun. Every time a car drives by you frantically look over both shoulders and grunt and squeak to see the street until it’s too late – the car passes and you’re back to swinging.

Maly, usually I focus on you in my letter to you but I am going to turn the table now. My Dad died on September 26th. I hurt really badly right now and I hate to think that one day you will have to feel the same pain that I’ve been feeling recently.

Your Grandpa loved you so much and he was so proud of you. I wish so much that he were here right now. I wish that he could teach you things as you grow older. He had a lot to offer. He left me too early and now I am left to figure out how to be a father on my own. I no longer have a Dad to turn to for advice and help. I promise you, with all of my heart, I will do the best that I can.

I want to be here forever for you – to protect you, to help you, to hold you, to hug you, to kiss you, to nudge you out on your own for the first time and find solace in knowing that I’ve taught you well. You come from great lineage and I want you to always be proud of that. I’m really scared right now despite what your Grandpa recently told me. He said, “You’ll be okay.” He was refering to how I was going to provide physically, emotionally and financially for you and your Mom after having recently lost my job. He said it with such confidence that I can’t help but remember his voice and heed the notion that he knows something that I don’t.

I promise I will be there for every low-flying belly flop, every inch crawled, your first step and every step in life thereafter. I will always be there for you.

I love you so much, Sugar — more than you will ever know.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned five-months-old today. You’ve had quite an eventful month. We started out the month by flying to Des Moines for your baptism. You were cleansed of the original sin and now I’m compelled to call you Moddy Eedizibud.

The Sunday after your baptism, while lying on your back on your grandparents’ living room floor, you rolled completely over onto your stomach and then pushed your body up off of the floor with your arms. You wouldn’t believe the squeals and applause that this event garnered. Your mom and grandparents were pretty impressed, too.

Traveling to Des Moines meant that you were able to experience flying in an airplane for the first time. I was worried that you would be afraid of the bumping as the plane took off, the change in cabin pressure or the turbulence. Just as the plane began accelerating for take off, you conked out in my arms and slept nearly the entire way. I like to think I protected you by holding you.

The plane ride home wasn’t as calm and uneventful. I’m not going to name names here but your mom thought it would be a good idea to book our returning flight during your “witching hour”. You screamed, squirmed and complained for the duration of the first leg of the flight home. There was a twenty-something childless couple sitting a few rows ahead of us and they both looked back at me every time you started to whimper. Using my honed non-verbal confrontational communication method I warned that should either of them looked back as us again I would smash their faces in with one of my flip flops.

When we arrived home, we maintained your regular night time ritual by bathing you and putting you in bed by 8 p.m. but instead of putting you down in your cradle by your mom’s side of the bed, we put you in your crib. In your OWN ROOM. I didn’t sleep well at all that night. I missed you.

We’ve been feeding you new foods now. We started you on rice cereal at the beginning of your fifth month and oatmeal just today. You’ve taken both very well. Your mom is still better at feeding you than I am. I get more on you than in you.

Two weekends ago your mom went to the store alone while you and I hung out at the house. You and I are both prone to going stir crazy so I decided we need to go for a walk.

With you in tote I grabbed your Jeep stroller and lugged the both of you to your mom’s and my bedroom to get prepared for our stroll. I propped you up tripod-style on the floor near me so I could unfold the stroller. I stood up, turned toward the stroller and immediately felt the urge to turn back to check on you. When I did, I saw the beginning of your ungraceful face plant. I was a foot too far and a nanosecond too late. You had already toppled and on the way down, you whacked your head against the wooden TV stand. I knew what was coming next so I immediately scooped you up, cradled you and kissed you and kissed you and kissed you and promised that that would never happen again. You cried that distinct cry that bitterly reminded me that I neglected you for a fraction of a second. I clenched my eyes, softly squeezed you against my body and kissed you again like it might be my last chance to hold you. You stopped crying. You knew that I was there to protect you.

You are such an unbelievable little person now. You talk and sing and giggle and every day I just want to hug you so hard that you permeate my chest and sink into my heart where I can protect you forever.

I will always protect you, Sugar.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned four-months-old this past week. You’ve become such a fun baby. Your personality is really starting to shine through and you’re an absolute blast to be around! Except when you cry. And when you insist on hiding the TiVo remote when Dog the Bounty Hunter is on.

You have reached many milestones this month. You laugh more and more each and every day. Your Mom is jealous because she tries all day to get you to laugh to no avail. When I come home, you and I have a regular gigglefest. You love it when I sing 80′s pop songs to you. Unlike your Mom, I know very few 80′s pop songs by heart so I have a feeling she will start winning you over soon. It’s wicked scary how astute your Mom is with 80′s music.

Nothing is more fun than making you laugh. You have a very dedicated laugh where you want to make others laugh with you. You also have a very shy laugh where you turn away and hide your giggles with your fist. You can be very bashful and it’s absolutely adorable. You’re very smitten with me and I call you on it all the time. And every time I do you try that much harder to hide it as you keep a constant check on me from the corner of your eye.

We took you swimming for the first time this month. It wasn’t really swimming, more like anxiously holding you in a $30 inflatable pool from Target as you splashed and giggled while we wondered if the mosquito larvae in the pool would creep into any of your orifices and conveniently turn you into a evil blood sucking alien when you reach the age of fourteen.

You have been really honing in on your motor skills this month. You grab and hold onto your feet now. You also hold onto most objects that we can fit into your hands, although, you don’t really know what you’re doing with your hands so it’s pretty painful to watch you jab your baby duck rattle into your eyeballs.

You’re very good at holding your head up now. You used to lay back and turn your head to take everything in. Now you’re much more determined and can lean forward in your car seat or swing so you can look at things at your leisure.

We don’t have the same evening schedule as we did last month. Now I bathe you at 7 p.m. and move you to our bedroom where I try to distract you with either 1) singing 80′s pop music or 2) some really weird song that I make up about Santa Clause renting a van and driving on the ocean floor with Jimi Hendrix to Transylvania to open a beauty salon called “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” while I put your diaper and pajamas on. After bathing and dressing you, your Mom or I have to rock you to sleep. You used to fall asleep while sitting up in my arms as I walked you about the house.

You discovered the joys drinking water just the past weekend. We went to your Grandma and Grandpa’s house and your Grandma let you drink from an icy glass of water. I don’t think you swallowed much of it but we could all tell you really liked that new sensation of something other than breast milk passing your lips. It was cute to watch you grab for the cup and bring it to your mouth and lick the outside of the vessel frantically until Grandma tilted it enough to let water reach your mouth. You’re such a determined little creature.

I love you more than ever and I know that that love can only grow exponentially as each minute passes. I want to see everything as new and innocent through your eyes as you grow and take in your new world. I want to taste water again for the first time and hold and protect and nurture you. I want to make sure that there is always a reason for you to giggle.

Never ever, ever, ever stop laughing. If not, I’ll have to stay alive that much longer to make sure you do.

I love you, junior.

Smooches,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned three months old this past week. You’re changing so fast and have become so bewildering that I’ve put away most thoughts of giving you away or leaving you outside until you figure out how to venture off and raise yourself.

This month you finally managed to shart on me. Mom does 95% of the diaper changing so your managing to finally hit me with your excrement is quite a milestone. With breakneck speed I attempted to dodge your flying poo as I watched it hit me on the leg. Surprisingly I didn’t gag. Here’s fair warning though: I will get you back.

You giggled for the first time this month. There are no words to describe how that made me feel. That was, by far, the happiest moment of my life. Your giggle was the only sound that mattered in the world at that moment. Your giggle fits you perfectly — It’s short, infectious, intentional and defined. You’ve only giggled for me – not your mom. She hates me for this. I can tell, just by your giggle, that you will be the one who will make others laugh and be able to easily laugh at yourself.

Your mom and I decided that it would be my job as your dad to bathe you every night. It’s our time to bond. I usually sing Guns ‘n’ Roses or Doors songs while giving you your bath and you stare out toward the sky through the kitchen window. We can’t figure out what you’re looking at. Personally, I’m convinced that you’re sending a beacon to the others from your planet, telling them that we are weak and gullible and their planned descent to destroy us should commence.

It is at this point in the winding down of your day that you turn into Satan. I pull you from the tub, wrap you in your towel and walk you into our bedroom. The moment I lay you on the bed to put your diaper and pajamas on, you start in with your constant, pouty crying. I try to distract and console you to no avail. I’ve even threatened to walk around in Speedos when you’re in the seventh grade and have your friends over to get you to stop crying.

I quickly apply a dab of A&D ointment to your butt, put your diaper and pajamas on and walk you about the house and talk to you about absolutely nothing meaningful so you’ll stop crying and fall asleep. You will have to do the above steps for me one day and I’m looking forward to it.

I do look forward to our nightly ritual. It’s not what I would have expected or even wished for, but it’s our time together and it’s better than having to explain to the police why I thought it was a good idea to leave you face down in a bed of fire ants.

You experienced your first Fourth of July this month. We drove out to Lakeway with John, Christine and Jack and watch the fireworks display from the inside of our truck. I was excited that you were going to see large fireworks for the first time. Instead you stared blankly at the digital clock on the dashboard.

You’re holding your head up quite well now. Your hands have managed to find each other so you’ll occassionally hold your hands together. You also found your middle two fingers with your mouth. You’ve begun to soothe yourself by sucking on these two fingers. You mom’s boobs are thankful.

You drool. A lot. Experts say that this is because as you grow older, you produce more saliva and just don’t know what to do with it. Us non-experts concur. I was thinking that at three months your snake-like tongue would find a happy home inside your mouth. That is not the case. I guess you’ll break your tongue sticking out habit when either 1) the other kids start making fun of you or 2) you bite it off after you get teeth and fall down onto your bottom jaw. If the latter occurs, I will buy your first replacement tongue but after that, you’re on your own.

Your mom has a degree in photography. I have many credits in photography from college as well. We are friends with quite a few professional photographers. We also own a pretty nice camera. So we did what any pair of photography-savvy, resourceful parents would do: we took you to JC Penney to have your portaits taken. Talk about crazy! I don’t know how JC Penney portrait photography employees can do their job without being hopped up on lithium. You did well at your sitting so we took you to Chick-Fil-A for lunch.

I keep meaning to arm myself with a witty rebuttal when someone asks, “How’s Maly?” or “How’s that little daughter of yours?” I’m genuinely thankful that people are inquisitive as to your overall well-being, but there’s not a whole lot to report. “Well, she’s just finished up her French lessons and will be starting her interpretive dance lessons next week.” Or “We’re training her to be a ninja and are actually going to pick out grappling hooks and short blade katanas tomorrow.” My response is usually limited to, “Well, she eats, sleeps and is growing like a weed.” Maybe it’s because I want your day-to-day discoveries and interactions to be your gift to your mom and me alone.

You are growing so fast. It’s very scary. I can’t stop time no matter how tightly I shut my eyes and clench my fists. I look at the pictures from just three months ago and see a tiny little baby resting on my chest, looking up at me and taking in all that is her dad. I give everything of myself to you and want nothing more than to provide for you and let you experience life with laughter.

Everyone says, “Enjoy it now because they grow up so fast.” That’s so very true. And I am enjoying it. Every minute of it.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You turned two months old this week. We stare at you constantly and note how much you’ve grown. Caught up in the bewilderment that is you, I know your mom and I will not take notice of how old we will have become until it’s too late.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how you will choose to go about explaining the meaning of your name. Literally it means “small”. You’re in the 75th percentile for your height and you’re built very much like your dad, so you’ll not be small for very long. To render advice right now I would suggest you say that your name is derived from the Czech language and your parents chose a unique name to distinquish their daughter who they plan to have make her mark in this world. Or you can just tell them we were drunk.

This month you started smiling. Your smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Your smile lets me know that you’re happy. You might just be farting, but at least I know you’re happy. Don’t ever stop smiling. Or farting, for that matter.

They say to never get caught up in anticipating a child’s milestones as they grow up too fast as is. It’s very hard not to want for you to hurry up and learn to laugh. I will do everything in my power to freeze time at that point.

You also started “talking” this month. You have many points during the day when you want to interact with us. You will say “GAAAAAAEEEEEEEE AYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEE” to which your mom will say, “Hi. hi. hi. Hi. HI. hi. HIIII. Hiiiiiiiii!”

And you will retort, “ayyyyyyyyyyeeee.”

It’s amazing to watch you and listen to you. You are extremely determined. I already know that you will never settle for failure.

Your mom knows this much better than me but you are beginning to settle into a schedule. Part of this schedule, that I was comfortable in pointing out, is that you wake up extremely pissed. This is another trait you inherited from me. Rarely do you wake up and stare into space until one of us finds you awake nor do you coo to gain our attention. Instead you wake up and throw a fit until one of us picks you up. We don’t mind your wake up rage. We find solace in knowing that we can stop your crying. We take great pride in our roles as your parents.

You’ve had the same zit on your left cheek since shortly after you were born. We’re not supposed to do anything to it but I wish it would go away. When your mom isn’t looking, I drag a fingernail across it, hoping that it will pop. It will go away with time but I’m trying to save you from the aweful embarrassment that I know you’re feeling now due to infant acne.

Overall you’ve been an excellent baby throughout your first two months of life. You didn’t suffer from colic. You and mom worked together and figured out how to nurse you. I caught a summertime flu bug that knocked me out for a week and you managed to stay healthy while cohabitating in the same house. You like being outside and you travel well. You’re happy – I can tell.

Everything you do seems like magic — from looking at me when you hear my voice to projectile pooping all over the front of your mom’s thighs while she tries to change your diaper. You are so amazing and perfect and every day with you is a gift that is too great and big to be encompassed by the word love alone.

I love you so much that sometimes I just want to bite your head off.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Maly,

You are now one month old. It’s almost impossible to believe that four weeks ago you became the oxygen-breathing miniature replica of me. Except for your tongue. That’s all from your mom.

One of my idiosyncrasies is that I have absolutely no short-term memory. However, I remember the day that you were born like it was only four weeks ago.

Your mom is a workaholic. She took no time off from work while pregnant with you. On Friday, April 14th, I woke up at 7 a.m., rolled over in bed to look at your mom. She was awake. She looked at me and said, “I’m having contractions.” I stayed in from work that morning to wait and see if we were going to the hospital. By the time I got out of the shower, your mom said, “Just go to work, I’ll be fine. We’re not having this baby today.”

I went to work and called your mom throughout the course of the day to check on her. She contracted all day and experienced “early labor” while fulfilling her job requirements as catering director.

I let my staff go home early that afternoon because it was the start of Easter weekend. This allowed me to go home and treat the deck in the back yard. I wanted to get this project done because I knew you would be coming soon and I wouldn’t have much time after your arrival for projects that required substantial time. Since this was the first time I had ever applied a water sealant to the deck, I had no clue as to what I was doing.

Dad got really high on solvent. Reeeeeeeal high.

Your mom came home from work at 8:30 p.m. and almost immediately her contractions strengthened and increased in frequency.

At some point your mom went to the restroom where she lost her mucous plug. If you watch the first fifteen minutes of “Saving Private Ryan”, you’ll have a better understanding of this.

It was at that point that I called the hospital. The on-call doctor called me back. I informed the doctor of the length and frequency of the contractions. She told us to go to the hospital.

Your mom could no longer stand up without support during a contraction. We loaded up our bag and headed to the hospital. Mom did her “hee hee hee whooooos” in the passenger seat while I drove and realized that life as I knew it would never be the same.

“Talk” by Coldplay played on the radio when we were on the way to the hospital. I don’t know why I remember that. Maybe because Gweneth Paltrow is married to Coldplay’s singer and they named their first child Apple. I was seriously thinking about telling everyone that we named you Kiwi Zenilda.

We arrived at the emergency room at 10:45 p.m. We were admitted and your mom was being examined by 11 p.m. We were informed that we were having this baby soon. Very soon.

Your mom and I were moved from triage to our labor and delivery room. Your mom felt most comfortable contracting while sitting in the rocking chair in our room. In between contractions our labor and delivery nurse and the charge nurse attempted to insert an IV into your mom’s arms for fifteen minutes. They kept poking her and poking her to no avail. Your mom then said one of the sexiest things that I have ever heard come out of her mouth:

“I have to poo really bad.”

Apparently bringing one of the most beautiful things in the world to life is synonymous with taking a grunt.

“You don’t need to poo, sweetie, you need to have a baby”, our nurse informed us.

Your mom went into active, pushing labor at midnight. You were born at 12:49 a.m. on Saturday, April 15. You wanted out fast. Apparently you have an agenda.

You were a little jaundiced for your first couple days of life. We let you sleep in the sun from the window for a few minutes here and there. There were a few requirements that had to be met before we could leave the hospital. You had to poop and pee, we had to name you and your doctor and your mom’s doctor had to check on you two.

We both knew you were going to be a girl without having been told so by a medical professional. We had a long list of girl names and would have been in a real naming bind had you come out as a boy.

I was hell bent on naming you at some point that day. It came down to Abigail (Abby) or Katherine (Katy). You didn’t look like an Abby or a Katy. You mom asked, “What about Maly?”, a name I had come up with when we found out your mom was pregnant. And so it was.

Both sets of your grandparents came to our house to meet you and shower your with kisses. They also helped your mom and I with meals and keeping up the house. Your grandparents are amazing people and you will learn to love them very much. If not, you’re going to be out of luck when we want to get rid of you for a week.

Feeding you has been the most difficult for you and your mom so far. Your mom is nursing you and for the first three weeks you were having problems “latching on”. All of the nurses who helped the two of you during our three days in the hospital were great and dispensed great advice, but none of which seemed to work. The on-staff lactation consultant was also an invaluable resource but again, her advice didn’t work for your mom.

As you began growing, you needed more milk. We thought your mom couldn’t produce enough or you just weren’t eating. We decided to give you formula. We later found out that that was a very bad decision. We hired a renowned lactation consultant who came to our house and was finally able to show you and your mom how to nurse to where you were actually getting substantial food.

It was prior to achieving lactation nirvana that your dad watched you all by his self while your mom and Christine went out to dinner. I was trying to make myself double decker tacos for dinner when you woke up from being asleep for three minutes in your aquarium swing and started screaming. I picked you up and shhhhh’d you while I made four ounces of formula for you.

I fed you all four ounces because I knew that would make you pass out and then I could finish my double decker tacos and watch basketball. I dropped you off in your crib and turned on your baby monitor. You slept for five minutes before I heard your whimpering cry through the monitor. I went into your room to check on you to find you, your mattress and your crib bumper soaked with white formula puke.

It was at that point that my heart first broke over you. I was ashamed and pissed at myself. I kept thinking, “I’m a terrible father. Maly could have drowned in her own vomit.”

I’m glad we stopped feeding you formula. You now require very frequent feedings but I know your mom wouldn’t want it any other way. We love you so much and want nothing but the best for you.

I love you so much that I saved your umbilical cord stub. It’s actually pretty disgusting. It’s a dried up piece of rotten flesh but it’s of you. Every single little thing about you means everything in the world to me.

So far I’ve been faring well with changing your diapers, although your mom does 89% of the changings. Yesterday you gave your mom the best first Mother’s Day present ever. At 8 a.m. we both heard you clench, squeak and shart so hard that your yellowish brown liquid poo shot out of your diaper and up the length of your back, stopping just short of the base your head.

This might happen to you again in your adult life. If it does, pray that you’re alone.

I love you more than basketball and double decker tacos,

Daddy