How's it going, little man? Here we are, in the midst's of our last days as a team of two. In a few short weeks, a new player will be joining our ranks. I've been waiting for our new teammate for months, but you, my little star, are going to be blindsided.
I'm not going to kid you, or myself. It's going to be tough. You know all those hours you spend in my lap on the couch, reading books? And the time you spend in my lap on the floor building towers? Well, that lap time is about to be severely compromised. My lap is going to be the property of a very small, loud, needy person for the next several months. Your new brother or sister. Yes, he or she will share, but not much. It's not going to be 50/50. You are going to get the shaft, my friend.
You are going to spend more time crying. Don't worry, so will I. Your needs may not be attended to immediately; you might have to wait for your water refill or for your apple to be sliced. I might not be able to read you Dinosaur Roar 12 times in a row. You are not going to like this. Not even a little.
Please know that as tough as this is going to be for you, it will be even more difficult for me. I have no idea how I am going to cope with not attending to your every need the second it crops up. With not being able to comfort you the second you need it, to tickle away your sadness and kiss away your tears. You have been my universe for 17 months. It's going to be a big change for both of us.
But also know Sprout will never, ever take your place in my heart. I anticipate loving Sprout just as much as I love you, but you will always be my first, my Bean, my little man, the one who made me a Mommy.
I know you won't remember this time. Heck, you won't even remember a time before your sibling existed. But I will remember for both of us. I will remember the time when you were my one and only. I will remind you.
Oscar and Mommy, the day after his birth.