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You are adorable in your current flux state; you bounce between four and sixteen years old at surprising speed.

Recently other people’s feelings have become important, especially since the social groups at school change so quickly and the smallest actions can be construed as hurtful or mean.

Today, shortly after stepping on your mom’s foot and struggling with an apology, you mentioned that a friend from school had hurt your feelings.

You mother told you she was sorry to hear that, and, being fully aware that you give as good as you get, asked you “Do you ever hurt anyone’s feelings?”

With every ounce of truth you could summon you responded “No, just my family.”

I love the that quiet period in the morning, right before the world wakes up. That moment after Alphie has climbed in our bed, but before she is insisting on watching PBS kids, where Bettie is laying quietly on Angie’s arm, and Angie is awake but hasn’t had to even lift her head, let alone gotten up to feed the little one.

I love that moment where I can look at my wife and say “You’ve put together a pretty awesome family.”

And she can look back at me and say “I’m just glad only one of us shits in the bed.”

This small, outcast family of yours has very few traditions. Perhaps it is because of the pragmatic outlook of your mother, or because of the lobotomy that your father had after a tragic accident with a pillow and a meatloaf your father is extremely boring. Or perhaps the lack of traditions might just be a manifestation of the failed struggle to assert an identity when neither of your parents have strong social skills.

Or your parents might just be really, really tired.

This lack of traditions means that time passes without much remark in your house, with long stretches of uncountable days and nights being unremarkable except for changes in weather, remarkable news events, and perhaps the occasional purchase of some electronic device.

There is, however, an extremely important tradition that occurs in the weeks before Halloween. Your family, together, must venture out to a pumpkin patch.

Hi Bettie,

I wanted to tell you a little bit about how you and your sister have been doing today. But, since I am really tired, I am going to use some pictures, which are roughly equivalent to some number of words that you can’t count to (yet).

Before we left to go to the hospital last night, this was how your sister said goodbye:

And this was how she looked when you two spent some time together today:

I can’t guarantee that your relationship is going to always be this smooth, but it is a great start.