Dear Jacob and Meredith,
This day isn’t going down in the Annals of Powell History as one of our best. Let’s just say Daddy and I were excited about the end of it, and we had the bedtime train going around corners pretty fast. So then there we are, standing in your room, and I’m looking around at all the cars Jacob’s got lined up all over the place and I realize all the big ones have drivers and the drivers are Meredith’s folded socks.
We’re standing there singing and I just can’t stop giggling because Meredith is fiercely sucking on a car and Jacob is driving a car all over my arms and my face and my neck and shoulders.
It brought me out of the universe I live in, the one where this was a “Just keep movin’ till you get to the end of the line” day and into yours – the one where you obviously drive cars on parents during bedtime songs, or maybe eat them, and where socks are the obvious choice for operating heavy machinery.
Thanks for the break from reality.
We love you.
Mommy and Daddy