15 years old.
Dear Jack,
Mommy did such a good job planning our most recent weekend activity: Our family drove about an hour away to check out Christmas with the Alpacas at TMMA Farms in Trion, Georgia last weekend.
You loved being able to interact with the animals. You always have.
And thanks to your idea, our new Christmas tree topper is an alpaca we bought from the gift shop.
Love,
Daddy
9 years, 7 months.
Dear Holly,
I’m confused. How is it that on a Saturday morning, you just get to make an ice cream sundae because you feel like it and because you can?
Well, I guess the answer is because apparently I don’t stop you. I just watch you do it.
Love,
Daddy
15 years old.
Dear Jack,
The day after Thanksgiving, you decided you wanted to go back to Walker Rocks at the Crockford-Pigeon Mountain Wildlife Management Area; as we did with Papa and Uncle Andrew nearly a year ago on Christmas Eve.
Even at 15 years old, the adventurous spirit of a curious boy is still alive and well inside of you!
Love,
Daddy
9 years, 7 months.
Dear Holly,
It is not an exaggeration to say that Mommy’s new offiice also serves as not only a family game room but also a dance studio.
After dinner, it is pretty common for me to walk by and see you and Mommy dancing together in the new addition to our house; which is mostly soundproof, though it shares a wall with our living room.
As I look through this collection of photos of the two of you, it could be assumed these photos were posed.
But no, I just happened to run in the room with a camera over the course of a few days, and this is what I saw!
Love,
Daddy
15 years old.
Dear Jack,
Aunt Dana sent me this photo a couple of weeks ago, which was taken when she picked you and your sister up from school one day.
She asked me, “Did Jack tell you about the patch he made for his sock?”
I hadn’t noticed in the photo, but the heel of the sock was actually a circular piece of notebook paper you apparently crafted to cover the hole in your sock.
Even beyond the hole, there was some serious wear and tear.
Something tells me you’ll be getting new socks for Christmas… or at least more notebook paper.
Love,
Daddy
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