Dear Merritt,

We're going to keep this one short. Like you. Even though you regularly bonk your head on the underside of the kitchen counter's overhang because you're not used to being taller than it. We're not used to you being "tall" either, Bud.

In the last couple of months, you learned "Down Down Baby" at school and now experience outbursts of, "Let's get the 'ribbon' of the head - ding dong" at random.

You've also fallen in love with Macklemore's "Thrift Shop," a tune you request every time we get in the car, always sure to point out that you "love when the back trumpets come in." Because you know your backbeats. Especially of the brass variety. And when they begin, you shimmy like you're fulfilling your life's mission.

This month, Tinker Bell has your heart. We were walking to the park the other day, holding hands and swinging arms, when you took a big breath and said, "I wish I could tell someone I love fairies." It was such a sweet, sincere, and genuinely YOU moment. I told you that I was all ears, and you spent a few sentences enthusiastically explaining your adoration: basically that you love them because they are tiny and help other people. I watch you watch all the movies in the Tinker Bell series and I see the way your eyes light up, the way you care for the characters, the way you're inspired by all their tinkering, the way you constantly tinker and bring us joy.  I can honestly say I wasn't a fairy fan until I saw them through your eyes. Now I'm all "Faith, trust, and pixie dust." For life.

Sometimes we tell you something about yourself and you deny it. And so we back it up with having read it in the newspaper, or seen it on a billboard, or watched it in a movie, or clicked on a link about it on the internet, and you just keep denying and we just keep making up sources. The other day, I mentioned something about you being "crazytown," a word we have long used to describe bats-in-the-belfry-type situations. Without missing a beat, you said, "No. I read in the newspaper that you're crazytown." And we were so proud that you chose that instance to show how adept you are at learning a game and then waiting until the perfect moment to play it.

You have invented your own brand of cussing. It's a religious experience to hear you express yourself with the likes of "holy shoot" and "oh my jangit." You are nothing if not loquacious, and that includes the made-up expletives department. We are delighted that you're able to articulate your feelings, even if it means cultivating your own vernacular. We may need to do the same, because it seems impossible to describe how we feel about you with just ordinary words, Merritt Scot.

We love you so jang much.

Love,
Momma & Mommy