I love you. I think that's been well documented here, or at least I hope so. I hope that one day you'll read through these archives and know with each post how much admiration and affection I feel for both of you. You are both so incredibly smart, and funny, and sweet, and kind. You are compassionate and caring, giving and gracious. Your cuteness transcends into beauty with each passing day, and not a day goes by that I am not aware of how incredibly lucky I am to be your mom.
That being said, can I be brutally honest with you for one quick second? You two are terrible puppeteers. It's not often that you invite your dad and I into the living room for an impromptu puppet show, but when you do? It's torture. You invite us to laugh at your punchlines; we struggle in vain to find them. You look to us with anxious anticipation to gauge our enjoyment; we try to portray at least a smidgen of interest. It's not that we don't love soaking up every little adorable thing you have to do and say, but these puppet performances are a killer.
Someday you'll read this and think I'm being mean. And then you'll read it again when you're a mom yourself and you'll think, "Okay, I get it". But you know what? We'll continue to persevere as long as you're willing to invite us. Just remember that when you claim we never do anything nice for you.