Dear Little Guy

Dear Little Guy,

Because you were hungry at 4 am this morning, I crawled out of bed to change you and feed you.

I overslept this morning because you were sleeping well. I showered, and dressed, and came into your room, where you smiled because you saw me.

I put you in the cutest little outfit, thinking optimistically that you might be able to wear it for more than an hour without spitting up. I held you while you ate.

I picked you up and you spit up a little - on me, on yourself. It wasn't much. I washed you off to let it dry.

I made your bottles, I washed your face.

I picked you up. You spit up a little. I cleaned you off.

I packed your bags, I grabbed my purse. I locked up Caley. Caley came out the second door, which I had left open. I locked up Caley for real this time.

I took you to the car, put the bags on the floorboard. You spit up.

I took you inside and cleaned you off. I washed your face. I put you in your carseat and we backed out of the driveway.

I had forgotten to write your name on your bottles for daycare. I turned around and ran inside to grab a marker and tape. We were off again.

The low fuel sensor beeped at us just before we pulled in to daycare. I parked and labeled your bottles. I opened your door and you were already smiling at me.

I dropped you off, you watched me go. I wanted to take you with me.

I stopped for gas and had to make awkward small-talk with the creey guy behind the counter. I picked the broken pump, so I stood there and pumped it by holding the handle just right. I got to work an hour and a half later than I should have. I've been paying for it since.

But it's all worth it because you smiled at me today.