Let the record show that on June 1, 2014, Brendan Gianino was already playing ball.
Let the record also show that no matter how much time I spend with this little man, it’s never enough. I can’t get enough of listening to each and every thing he chooses to say, looking at his sweet little face, and watching the kindness that flows out of him into the world. And also the silliness.
He tells awesome stories, he gives hugs to all the kids in the neighborhood, he rides his bike like a champ, he reminded me today that they needed more nap time diapers for him at school (I had forgotten, and he genuinely reminded me). He not only talks about race cars but also which cars have spoilers, and which motorcycles are choppers or cruisers or racing motorcycles. Every single person at work who drives a motorcycle knows our son. I also taught him to sing a really cheesy broadway rendition of “Tomorrow” from Annie. I write him notes and put them in his lunch, and even though he can’t read, he keeps them with him all day. His teachers tell me that he sleeps with them at nap time. I love every single solitary thing about him, and I think he can feel that. And he still keeps getting better and better each and every day.