nineteen months


You are a few days past your nineteenth-month birthday and since I just wrote to you, I really only have one major update:

The other day my stomach rumbled from hunger and you said:


It rumbled again, and you said:


I love you.

We had a little date last week, you and me. We went to the Transport Museum one morning when Joney was at big boy school. We spontaneously hopped on the bus after dropping him off and got to Covent Garden in that rare hour when it’s still quiet and peaceful and filled with the promise of another day. Men were unloading wares from trucks and even the museum wasn’t open yet. So we headed across the way to Pain Quotidien to share porridge and fruit and you couldn’t have been happier. When the museum opened you had a decent run of the place. It’s heaven on Earth for little boys and this was your first time getting to go solo. You loved every minute of it, and I did too. Of course. Cause you’re my heart walking around.

Love, Mommy

(even though you still won’t say my name but you will say Daddy and Jonah and teeth. Simon, you say teeth but not Mommy. I’ll be okay, I’m just saying…)


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