Thank you for being perfection every single day. For acting older than you have to, for always keeping tabs on your crazy brothers, for doing what you are told, for having a conscience, for feeling bad when you do something wrong, for saying fabulously cute things like: "Oh, Carter, you should not have done that, it was very foolish," oh, and also for looking so painfully cute every single day when I drop you off at school with your little backpack hanging all the way down to your knees. I swear, every day I want to jump out of the car and make you come back home with me. I don't know what I'm going to do if you ever get rebellious, because you are such a heaven-sent.
Remember how you stapled those two sheets of paper together the other day then "decorated" them, (which means colored all over them with a red crayon) and then called it your indian hat? And you wore it at dinner, and to bed and then to preschool the next day. Yeah, that was pretty much the cutest thing ever. Thanks for reminding me that amid all the chaos that is your personality, you are pretty dang awesome.
You have the most delectible little body in the world. You're squishy, so deliciously squishy, and you're spunky and hilarious, which makes the squishiness even more desirable, and also your skin is so sweeeeet. Except now the mosquitos seem to have discovered your yumminess and they won't leave you alone. Your siblings wake up without so much as a nibble on them and you have been the midnight buffet. I don't even know where they are coming from but they head straight for you. I love that I have to rub bug repellent on you before bed, but I don't like that it makes you taste weird.
I still love you, even if you are a pain to paint. You are really starting to show some progress. Thank you,
Love, Girl in the paint splattered clothes.