Dear son/transformer/police officer/entertainer/upsetter,
It's your 4th birthday. I remember 4 years ago. and 2 days.
I look kind of happy here. It's because I'm about to meet you. Also, like it's common for the pregnant to do, I seem to have spilled coffee on my belly. Again.
I laughed half as much before you were born.
You've always been my kind of monkey.
This is so much like you. You do everything suddenly. Like fall asleep.
Or steal my food.
