I write about Avery often. I can’t help it. She generates a lot of unique questions along this uncharted parenting path. I feel guilty about that, as though the things her big brother does aren’t as special or important. This isn’t the case at all. He, is perfect. In every way. He’s smart and thoughtful and kind. He’s funny and creative and he makes me ridiculously proud and grateful to be a mother. Sometimes, I can’t believe he’s mine. I feel so lucky I could cry. And sometimes, I do (who am I kidding, lots of times…I’m a sappy, sucky cry baby. I admit it).