Dear Boys

If you have never seen the Dear Sophie ad from Google Chrome, you may not understand this post.

Dear Sophie doesn't exactly make me cry every time, but I do get a little misty-eyed. I think it's a beautiful idea, and I hope my kids love the memories I have shared with them.
I created email addresses for both of the boys, and although I haven't been entirely consistent about remembering to email them, I do send them stuff.
I emailed them links to the blogs about our last week together before my maternity leave was up, I've sent them the invitations to their own birthday parties, and sometimes I just email them to tell them how great they are.

This week, I emailed both of them separately.
N started walking more than two or three steps at a time, and I got a great video of him coming across the room towards me. I sent him the video and wrote him a little email about how awesome he was doing, and how I know that he will be running around in no time.
M turned 3 this week. THREE. Where has the time gone? I have no idea. I wrote him an email about his birthday party and basically just how great he is.

You know, I remember "grown ups" saying often how fast I was growing up and how big I was getting and how quickly time flies. This never made any sense to me. Time always dragged. I felt like I would be in elementary school forever. High school and college were slightly less long, but then I hit the working world. Monday to Friday. Week in and week out. No Christmas break or reading week or summer vacation, at least not two months worth. Talk about time dragging.
And then I had M, and I blinked, and he's 3. Unbelievable.

There are several great things about the boys having email addresses.
Friends and family can email them, too. When one of my best friends had a special bonding playtime with M, she sent him a hilarious email about it.
Their grandparents can send them pictures and funny emails, and the boys will always be able to enjoy those.

But also - I'm the administrator of their accounts, so I can go in and read the emails in there. It's like flipping through a scrapbook of memories, and it never fails to make me laugh reading about the crazy antics of my boys.

Thanks, Google.