Dearest Buster Boy,
I can't help but think back 2 years ago to what we were doing on this exact day. You decided (or actually Doc decided) it was "entry into the world" day and you did it with a bang. Came out a nice shade of navy blue and decided to hold in your cries so you could enjoy the scenery. I didn't even get to see you whisked away to the land of oxygen tanks and every wire monitor imaginable. In fact, I didn't see you for 6 hours, and you should know that, had we talked about it earlier, I would have opted for a pinker shade (no, it's not girly) and an immediate sighting/holding. However, you were looking pretty fly in there by the time I was wheeled down to the special nursery.
The nurses called you "Big-un" because you, at 8 lbs, 12 ounces, were at least twice the size of the other babies in the room. They had a hard time fitting the oxygen helmet on your man-sized head. And the sweet church that donated Christmas stockings for the "preemies" did not have you in mind because when we walked in Christmas morning, your stocking was on one leg. The rest of the babies were in their stockings up to their neck. It was a hilarious scene and the nurses just shrugged and said "We tried, but Big-un is just too chunky for these tiny stockings."
We got to bring you home a week later and your navy blue shade had turned into a pretty pumpkin orange. Thank you, jaundice. You hung out in your little Moses basket and rarely made a peep. Except when you were hungry and then your cry had a pitch to it that made my ears bleed. That was especially noticeable around 3am.
Your sister fell in love with you from the minute she saw you and couldn't wait for a playmate. She still loves you more than any other girl in this world (except Mommy of course who is smitten with her boy!) and when asked who her best friend is, without ever hesitating she proudly proclaims, "Buster Boy!" Occasionally she changes her mind. Like when you pounce on her while she's laying on the couch watching TV. Or when you eat her food while she's not paying attention. Or when you grab her beloved BearBear and take a run for the hills. But mostly she's your #1 fan.
It's been a big 2 years for you. Countless breathing treatments. Crawling to walking to running to jumping to riding your big boy scooter. Bald head to your first haircut. Losing Bunny, finding Bunny, losing Bunny, finding Bunny. Gurgles to words. Thumb sucking to....thumb sucking.
Happy Birthday, my little boyfriend. I hope you never stop snuggling your Mommy. Even when you get married (no matter what that little wifey of yours says!). You make me laugh. You make me proud. And in a few short months you will make an amazing older brother.
I love you, my sweet Buster.