I'm sitting here, staring at your picture, trying to figure out what to write to you on this momentous day, but I keep getting interrupted by your little [
monster rugrat] brother.
Enjoy your daily four hours of freedom from his [
wrath] company, and give 'em hell. Well, good, nice Catholic hell, that is.
PS. I'm sorry I was too cheap to buy you expensive dress shorts because your uniforms haven't arrived and so instead you had to wear size 2T boy shorts today (that are actually too big on you -- go figure). Just remember, if you're going to blame someone in therapy, your dad was the one who got you there late on your first day.
PPS. If you're looking at this picture and wondering where your other braid is, I swear there were two on your head when you left. You know, in case that comes up in therapy too.
PPPS. These are going to be the longest four hours. I miss you already.