I lub you too, Space Monkey.

Dear Space Monkey-
You are growing up too fast. Please stop. Or at least help me slow down my daily life to notice all the things you are learning. And man, oh man, are you smart. You can count to twelve (at least), you can say the alphabet (with help) and you can hit a ball across the yard when it’s launched from your tee-ball batting practice machine.

I continue to be amazed by your athletic prowess. You run and kick the soccer ball, catch the football in mid hike after yelling “hike, hike” and you continue to improve your baseball skills. For baseball you have your own set of rules. Everyone wears hats (forward for baseball, backwards for football). If there are two people, one is always the pitcher, one is always the batter. If there are three, someone plays catcher. You say “play ball,” tap the bat on the ground, and then usually hit the ball before your get three strikes, running the bases and sliding into home.

You do other things that make me love you. Your game this morning is “someone got you daddy” where you run up form behind, put your arms around me and make me guess who it is. You love being thrown in the air and landing on the bed. Recently you’ve started jumping off of everything.

While this might be embarrassing to you later, you’ve been constantly picking your nose and eating boogers. Grammy told you “Mater (from Cars) doesn’t pick his nose,” and you told her, “Mater doesn’t’ have these (showing her your hands) or this (pointing to your nose).” I know it’s a constant source of embarrassment for Momma and I, so I hope I can pay you back.

You’re welcome.

You love everyone, but you say it as “lub.” In the morning you wake up, roll over, put your arm around me, give me a kiss and say “I lub you too, daddy.” Sometimes you just curl up next to me, or grab my arm and put it around you. You love Momma, you love the D’s (Grammy and Gramppy), MaMaw and Grandpa Tom, Zoë, Frankie, Millie and Kesey. Yesterday you told me you love the neighbors. With other kids you try to have a hug fest, although not all other little kids like to be hugged as much as you.

Sometimes when you are riding on my shoulders and want to get my attention you lean over, put your face in mine and say Daddy! Over and over until I answer. Sometimes, even though there is plenty of room, I say duck! when you’re up there and we go through the doors into a store. I just like to have you close to me.

You talk nonstop and I don’t always understand what you are trying to say. Lately you take your time and pause, searching for the right word before you speak. Sometimes you say Uh, Uh, Uh, over and over until you get out what you want to say, although I’m not sure where you get that.

It’s been almost a year since I last posted, and while I never thought this blog would be filled with daily observations, I had hoped I would post to it more than I have. I hope it doesn’t mean I’m a bad daddy. I don’t think it does. It just means it’s easy to get busy and forget about the little details that will help me remember later. Don’t get me wrong, I’m here. I hope I’m around more than my own father was around for me. That’s a big worry, you know, that I won’t be a good dad. I probably spend too much time thinking about that.

I hope you don’t really mind being called space monkey. I like it as a nickname. When I call you that, you say, “not space monkey, Daddy, just Gabe.” You’re right. Just Gabriel, that’s enough.

I lub you too, Space Monkey.
-Daddy