My baby,

My baby,

Hi sweetie, I’m sick and feel blah. It’s nothing crazy, but I’m hoping I at least want to function tomorrow.

Daddy sent me a video of you this morning. It was from the night when you got your blue sticky hand stuck on the ledge of the top window. I watched less than thirty seconds of it, but you spent that time trying to figure out what you could build to get it back. I don’t know why I couldn’t watch it in its entirety. I watch all videos that I’ve seen before or ones that I’ve I recorded. It’s kind of like since it’s not my first time, I know what to expect. I don’t know what to expect with ones I haven’t seen. I started to get sad listening to how upset you were about that blue sticky hand. Sorry we couldn’t get it down for you, we don’t have like a twenty foot ladder.

I just want to hug you and tell you it’ll all be “okay”. However, it seems like I’m the one who needs to be told that. I joked with Gma that maybe my birthday gift would be finally getting the results of your autopsy. It’s not funny or entertaining, but I need to keep things light for my sanity. I don’t think it honestly matters. My birthday is forever changed, anyway. I hope you visit me on my birthday. You have a few days to prepare, but a visit from you is all I could ever want.

I love you more than anything, my baby. Goodnight and sweet dreams.