1 year, 6 months.

Dear Holly,

While I am extremely grateful we are past the days of preparing and cleaning bottles of milk for you, I will admit: It’s not one of my favorite things, to feed you yogurt.

At least twice a day, you’ll walk over to the fridge, pull on the door, and speak in your language what would translate as, “I want yogurt, Daddy.”

That’s when I respond with a face palm and, “Ah man, really?”

By the time I am finished feeding you, you have a fu manchu of Trader Joe’s yogurt, which seamlessly blends in to your runny nose.

You also love for me to prepare you organic instant oatmeal twice a day as well, to accompany your yogurt.

After I clean you up, the stains on both of our clothes consists of a mysterious mix of “Is it yogurt, mucus, or oatmeal?”

It makes me think of the DNA test I did this summer, but instead of ethnicity, we would be testing the stains on your clothes:

43% yogurt

27% oatmeal

10% mucus

Fortunately though, we stumbled into a wonderful discovery:

Not only does your brother love to feed you the yogurt, but he’s much better at it than I am. You respond better to him. You think it’s more fun to eat the yogurt when he feeds you.

And somehow, none of the yogurt seems to make its way to either of your clothes.

If it were up to me, I’d always have your brother feed you yogurt. He enjoys doing it, too.

It makes me wonder what else your brother could do more efficiently than me. I recognize the special relationship the two of you have- and I respect it.

So even though I didn’t immediately think it was a smart idea to let your brother feed you yogurt while wearing one of his brand-new shirts, the two of you quickly proved me wrong.

Love,

Daddy