You still have an adorable speech impediment, saying "w" for your "l" sounds and I know eventually that will fade away. You like to tell stories about silly things and play with your millions and millions of tiny cars.
You have a new bed, a bunk bed, that I'm only about 80% sure you are going to sleep in all night long so we have to turn on your "tiny lights" in case you decide to climb out in the middle of the night, all fumbling and bleary eyed.
You have become the best big brother, although as I write this, you tried to pull Elise from her crib and make her cry. You like to make her laugh, even when you can't keep your face far enough from her eyes so she can actually see you. You share your blankets with her, even though you want me to give you the old, broken trash can that I am using to hold her dirty diapers because you think it's yours. I have no idea why, because it's old, cracked, and smells like ammonia.
You came in and told me your first joke the other day, when you tried to convince me that Hunter had eaten the bottle of slime you bought at the zoo. I had to ask you several times if Hunter really had eaten it, before you cracked a huge smile and admitted you were joking.
You are the very best, Jacob, and I love you so much. Even when I have to tell you for the hundredth time to stop yelling because your sister is sleeping.
Bonus shot of Elise: She really likes boobs, OBVIOUSLY!
