Dear Brooklyn, (aka...Brooke, Brooks, Brooke the Cook, Cookers, Cookie, Cooks, Brookie, Brookie Poo, Squishy, Squish)
You my dear, are a delight. By now, everyone has gotten over the fact that they were all hopeful you'd be a little brother. God knew what he was doing...and you fit perfectly into this family.
You've got fire in your bones...and words to say. Your will in strong. I know, I know...I seem to write that in all my birthday letters that pertain to two and three year olds...but this time I mean it. I'm not going to worry too much about you later in life because you won't be pushed around. You are clearly the youngest...but all of your siblings submit to you...probably because you still pinch...but still.
Speaking of pinching...can we PLEASE be done with that?? Pretty please?
Your vocabulary is so massive. You are an amazing talker. I love watching you think about how to pronounce big words.
You love all things pink. In fact for a while you would refuse to wear shirts that weren't pink...at the time you own about 2 pink shirts...so like any good parent I put my foot down and forced you to wear different colors...just kidding...I'm not crazy...went to the store and bought you a few more pink shirts...some battles just aren't worth fighting.
You consume enough blueberries to feed a small village...most of the time your little chin is stained blue...it is so cute!!
You love playing in the basement with Jude. You can pretty much convince Elisabeth to do anything for you. You are Lyla's best friend. You have dad wrapped around your finger...you can talk him into a big glass of milk at night...and you often persuade him that you "need this" when you go to the store together. You are my little shadow. You love me so much...you're kind of obsessed with me...it's ok I'm kind of obsessed with you too. I once heard a family member say..."I just want someone to love me the way Brooke loves mom." What can I say? We're thick as thieves.
You currently dig Barbie Life in the Dream House, playing with your Paw Patrol pups day and night, going to the park, slime,losing shoes, and messing up your hair five seconds after I've brushed it. #messyhairdontcare
You fancy chocolate, know all your colors, can count and sort, you don't like going down big hills in the car, and you also don't like to be pushed too high in the swing. Fear of heights, maybe? You despise pickles, skim milk, and spicy (sour) gummies. You sing Bad Blood, This Girl is on Fire, and songs from Trolls at the top of your lungs.
You call me "Chubby, Chubby" and I call you "Squishy,Shuishy"... I don't even know how that started...but it's our thing.
You have eyes that shine, like a pair of stolen polished dimes...and I love you so crazy much!!! I can't wait to see how God uses your drive and spirit to glorify him works.
Xoxo.
Mom
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