Dear Number Three Child,
I suppose one day you’ll be grown, and notice that your Number One Child sibling has far more photographic memorials to his childhood than do you. You might make jokes about him being the crowned prince, you being the lost-in-the-shuffle third.
And I just want you to know: If there are fewer pictures of you, it’s not because I’m busier than I used to be and don’t have time for such things. (Though, yes, I’m busier.) It has more to do with the fact that I am wiser than I used to be, and why get up to grab a camera when I could just sit for a moment longer with you snuggled on my chest? Your sweet head will only smell like this for so long. The rhythm of your fast baby breathing will someday slow, and you won’t need to hear my heartbeat in order to sleep. Excusing ourselves from the busy world to a comfy chair where you can nurse, one little fist wrapped firmly around my finger — how long will we do that for? Two years, two and a half at the most?
I’ll do my best to capture your baby sweetness, allow you to look back at how doting your brothers were, how quickly your cheeks grew chubby. But mostly, if it’s okay, I’ll just hold you. Okay?