(If you’re a friend or client, please feel free to ignore this post because it’s mostly meant for Spencer. You see, this blog is as much for me, to document my life, as it is for you to get to know me. This one is for my Little Man.)

My sweet little Spencer,

I want to thank you for ruining yet another tube of lip balm today. I’m actually not saying this in a sarcastic tone (which is rare for your mommy, as she tends to do the sarcasm thing a bit often,) but in an honest, heartfelt way. Thank you.

You see, I had thrown away the other two tubes of lip balm that you pulverized with that chunky little baby finger of yours. I went to use them and as I turned the base to get to advance the stick out of the tube, I pressed it to my lips and received a lovely surprise of a giant, mooshy, chunky mess of goo on my lips. I caught your eye across the room and you giggled, knowing you had played a part in the funny look on Mommy’s face.  Then I asked in my most animated way “Did you stick your dirty baby fingers in my lip balm again, you little stinker?!”  and pounced on you, “punishing” you with a thousand tickles.  You squealed with delight.  I whispered to myself “remember this moment,” as I do every time you do something adorable that makes my soul smile.  God, I love you.

Of course, the lip balm was hosed, so I tossed it in the garbage, went to the hall closet where I keep spares of everything, and grabbed a new one.  It wasn’t until a few days later, when I was using some nice, un-mashed lip balm, that I remembered how silly you are for enjoying sticking your fingers into the sticky tubes and smashing the solid balm into a soft, gooey mess.  I laughed to myself and suddenly became a little sad that I didn’t keep the tube as a memento.

SPENCER TO THE RESCUE!

You must have read my mind, because only two days later, I saw you walk by holding something that looked remarkably like my lip balm.  I keep it up on top of my nightstand, so I have no idea how you swiped it, then concealed it on your person when I carried you down the stairs, but you are pretty stealthy like that.  By the time I reached you, there was no hope for the Blistex.  The Blistex had been compromised.

You should know that while writing this, I thanked God for you no less than five times.  You are my heart.  You are my life.  You bring me more joy than I ever thought a smelly little bald man could.

Hugs (and “noses”)

~”Momma”