Dear E, this is you playing Minecraft at your computer. You've grown up so much these past few months but every so often I see a glimpse of the tiny little guy you used to be. Love you, Mama.
Dear C, about 3:00 each afternoon, you turn into a bundle of non-stop energy--constant movement, constant chatter, out-of-control silliness. This is you trying to hold all that in. It's just not possible. I love your spirit babe, Mama.