Happy July!

L.W.!

B.W. here.  Just checking in.  How are things going in there?  I know you're feeling a little cramped.  Your momma is, too.  We are both anxiously awaiting your arrival, so please hurry!

How am I doing?  Well, I'm currently somewhere that you will become familiar with very soon.  Your home...and more specifically, your chair!  I'm sitting in the chair where your mommy and Gangi and Nana will rock you to sleep.  And me too, of course!  It is so very comfortable.  Your mom picked it out, and it is a magic chair.  It can put anyone to sleep, no matter how much they fight it or how awake they seem to be when they sit down in it.  This may aggravate you at first, but I promise that you will grow to love it as much as your mommy does.  Well... I promise you'll grow to love it a lot.

So, anyway, I'm sitting here in this chair and I just realized that we are about to close the books on June. Just another hour or so.  That means you are almost certain to be born in July!  I have a friend named Scott that believes not in celebrating birthdays or birthweeks, but instead birthmonths. Why celebrate for 24 lonely hours, when you can go a full 30 days!  I like it.  And you will, too.  So Happy July!  It's a great month to be born in, and you get to share it with some really special friends.  Your Nana Mel was a July baby.  So was your cousin Jackson.  And last but not least, you get to share your birthmonth with your country!  Yep, the United States was born in July, too.  Your dad cannot wait to teach you all about it.

Best of all, though, July is MADE for little boys.  If a month could be a person, July would totally be a little boy, and truth be told, he'd probably be your bff.  You see, July is nothing less than a clean slate.  It's a month made for you to fill, and nobody can pack stuff into something like a boy.  June is busy with finishing school and getting your summer started off with a bang, and August is when people get frazzled trying to cram that last bit of fun in before the drudgery returns.  But July, son... July is lazy.  That's not always a good thing, but for July, it just works.  Days upon days where little boys wake up and see nothing but a blank canvas.  Let me tell you, it's amazing how much happens when there's nothing else to do.

Do you want to know what July was like when I was a little boy?  I would wake up practically at a dead run, throwing on shorts and a shirt and tennis shoes.  Inevitably, I'd be called back to brush my teeth.  Tie my shoes.  Eat breakfast.  Ugh...everything my mom could think of to slow me down.  When I FINALLY made it outside, I would meet up with my friends and we would play baseball.  Where was always an adventure.  Equipped with only a couple of tennis balls, one aluminum bat, and a set of orange plastic bases, we had to be pretty discerning.  A backyard might work, but the thicket right of first base ensured that any foul ball over there meant game over.  The street sometimes was decided on, but a tennis ball will roll forever on asphalt, and besides, what's a home run with nothing to hit over?  The ideal spot for us was a vacant lot a block away.  It was perfect.  A neighbors storage shed provided a backstop for errant pitches.  A small row of 20-foot pines in left provided us with our own Green Monster.  The only drawback was the Rottweiler that was usually chained up at the house next to the lot.  He wasn't friendly, and more than once he wasn't chained, and we'd be chased back all the way back to our house.

When we weren't playing baseball, we were playing golf.  Your Nana would drop me off at the course, and I'd be there until dark.  We would walk 18 holes, have lunch, and then walk some more.  Sometimes even a setting sun couldn't dictate the end of our day.  I remember receiving more than one lecture from a worried parent after putting out in what could only generously be called twilight.  After making it home for a quick dinner, me and my friends were back outside, stringing up the floodlight to illuminate the basketball goal in our driveway.  We knew that the thump-thump of that rubber ball on the pavement of my driveway had to drive our neighbor lady crazy, but we didn't care, and you won't either.

When it was really hot, a dip in my friends' pool was the only cure.  I remember passing the requisite half-hour after dinner, and thinking that somehow the clock was actually moving backwards.  When you ask me why I am making you wait, Coop, I'll tell you it's because you'll cramp.  But really, it's just because I had to.  I have no idea.  Sorry, pal.  If I had to wait, you gotta wait.  It builds character, or something.  We'd play Marco Polo and have cannonball contests and run around the outside of the pool and jump on each other...everything that the lifeguard will blow his whistle at you for, which happens to be all the fun stuff.

When I got a little older, we'd follow swimming up with Spades.  I will teach you how to play, L.W.  And then me and you can beat your mom and whoever she can wrangle up to be on her team.  It'll be a blast!  Anyway, I remember sitting in my friends' house, playing spades at the kitchen table.  The open window behind me pushing a sticky breeze into the room that was still somehow refreshing.  It smelled like summer and competed with the popcorn in the microwave for olfactory dominance.  We would drink Coca-Cola and eat salty popcorn and play cards until what would be way, way past my bedtime in the school year.  Finally, I would sprint home, precisely the length of three front yards, and bolt breathlessly through the front door.

After a night chock full of energy-renewing sleep, I'd awake the next morning to a chasm of opportunity only a hazy, lazy July day can present.  A day so open and free that it could only be met with one initial thought:  Where did I take my shoes off last night?


I hope you enjoy your birthmonth as much as I do, L.W.!  I can't wait to celebrate it with you every year!

I love you!

B.W.

Happy Paisley Tie Day!

L.W.!

Thank you so much for my Fathers Day gift!  And like any great gift, I just had to put it to use as soon as I could.  Since actually putting it on you wasn't really a viable option, I had to settle for the next best thing.  You're underneath there somewhere, just waiting to come out.  According to me, at least.  According to your momma, you're underneath there everywhere, and in no hurry whatsoever to come out.  Details.  I think that's a beautiful picture of you and your mom and your sweet gift for your daddy.  So thank you again!

I know you might be a little sketchy on exactly how you earned the accolades I'm giving you, so I'll catch you up to speed.  You see, everybody in this country gets a holiday.  Some get a day...others a week...some even get a month.  The American culture is very big on gift giving and the acknowledgement of a job well done, and for all of our exclusionary attitudes toward other things, we don't want anyone to be left out when it comes to greeting cards.  Your mom and dad both get their own day.  Mothers Day is in May, and Fathers Day is in June...both are on Sundays.  On Mothers Day, little children and their dads make a big fuss over mommy, and bring her breakfast in bed and lavish her with compliments, flowers, chocolates, and everything else that makes women happy.  The whole day is geared toward giving her whatever she wants.  Fathers Day is pretty similar to that, except it starts off with a gift for Dad.  The rest of the day is a blissfully exhausting session of Dad trying to figure out exactly what it is that Mom wants him to want, so he can ask for it, she can supply it, and he can get everything "he" desires on "his" special day.  Nevermind the fact that Five Guys really did sound pretty darn delicious to him, and On The Border after that, but in the end, Chili's was "his" choice, what "he" really wanted, and it was very good.  But I'm not bitter or anything.  

So, yeah, that's how this stuff typically goes.

One thing, L.W., that your dad really does love to do is to watch the United States Open Golf Championship.  The U.S. Open.  It is always held on the weekend of Fathers Day, and your mommy has always been very good about letting me watch it in peace.  I really love golf, Cooper, and I hope that you will love it, too.  I hope that we can watch the U.S. Open together every year on Fathers Day, just the same as I did with my dad.  Maybe one day we could go and watch it in person.  Together.  Maybe one day you'll even play in it.  That is a big maybe, but you never know.  Today, a young man by the name of Graeme McDowell won.  And just as soon as his final putt rolled into the cup, Graeme's father was rushing out onto the green.  He gave his son the most joyous hug, and kept repeating the keenest phrase.  Instead of saying how proud he was, which is how most of these scenes go, the elder McDowell kept saying "You're some kid!", 

"You're some kid!  You're some kid!  You're some kid!"  It reminded me of E.B. White's Charlotte the Spider, who I will introduce to you later, if your Nana Mel doesn't beat me to it.  Anyway, I thought it was a very sweet and a very neat father-to-son exclamation on the 18th green of the Pebble Beach Golf Links.  I wonder if Graeme's father ever dared to dream of his son winning the U.S. Open.  It must have seemed like a gargantuan maybe to him, as well, but it turned out to be one that miraculously played out.  Maybe we'll be so lucky.  Probably not, but that's okay.  I know just as certainly as Mr. McDowell does about his son, you're some kid, just the same.  

                           

I love you, L.W.!

BW

Story time!

Cooper, I think it's time that you meet some of the friends that are very, very excited and anxious for you to get here.  Just like your mommy and daddy and the rest of your wonderful family, these friends CANNOT WAIT for you to get here.  You are going to have so much fun with them!  Are you ready?

This guy is Mischief the Monkey.  He is very excitable, and will always seem to be the one behind the adventures you'll go on.  He is always FULL of energy.  Do you know how hyper you are after Momma Wooly eats a bowl of Cocoa Puffs?  Well, Mischief is like that ALL of the time.  He talks a lot, too.  If you are anything like your dad...or your mom, for that matter, you will probably give him a run for his money in that department.  Even though it will seem at times that Mischief likes to do nothing but run his monkey mouth, it's important to remember that Mischief is also very smart.  His brain works just as quickly as his mouth, and he is very good at coming up with plans.  Even when it looks like he is goofing off (which is most of the time), he is always paying attention, and he doesn't miss a thing.  If you let him, Mischief can teach you that having fun and being silly doesn't mean you have to stop learning from the world around you.  Hopefully, your mom and dad can help out with that, too.

This pretty giraffe is Grace.  As wild as Mischief can be, Grace is just that calm.  A stark contrast to her monkey friend, Grace is all legs and neck.  Believe it or not, she looks very much like your dad did when he was your age.  I'm not sure about the neck, but I was certainly all legs.  Right now your mom is hoping otherwise, but all indications are that you will take after your dad and be a long, lean baby.... just like Grace.   One thing I hope that Grace teaches you is to always be comfortable with who you are.  Sure, she may look a little bit different with her long legs and long neck, but Grace just focuses on the positives.  Living a happy life is all about how you look at things, and Grace takes advantage of her different vantage point.  The fruit at the top of the tree is never picked over, and she gets the sunshine before anyone else.  What's not to be happy about?

The last of the triumvirate that I want you to meet is Tireless the Turtle.  The first thing that you'll notice is that Tireless is very, very slow.  He prefers to be called meticulous, but he's really, honestly, just slow.  Glacial, even.  You'll learn that's no surprising characteristic for a turtle.  What may surprise you is how much Tireless LOVES to race.  He lives for it.  He challenges Mischief to a race every single day....and Mischief beats him every single day.  That doesn't keep Tireless from finishing the race, and challenging Mischief again the next day.  When you are older you will learn about words like perseverance and determination, but those are pretty fancy words that you will learn to pronounce and write long after you know their meaning.  What you will see in Tireless is that he isn't worried about never quitting, but instead he focuses on finishing.  As long as you are working toward getting done what you want to get done, not quitting will be the least of your worries.  Who has time to worry about that when you are busy accomplishing things?

So there they are.  Mischief and Grace and Tireless.  They are all best buds, Cooper, and they are all very excited about adding a fourth to their little group.  There are so, so many things that they want to teach you, and so, so many adventures they want to go on with you.  I made them promise, though, that no matter where they take you, that no matter how great the adventure is, they always bring you back safe and sound.  And they told me not to sweat it, Big Wooly.  That if I keep you safe during the day, they will always watch over you at night. 

So we've got that going for us, which is nice.

I love you, LW.  Goodnight!


BW