Dear Walker.

I know it’s been some time since I have documented your life for the world to witness. I missed telling everyone about your first trip to the snow. I haven’t talked about your penchant for boogers or how you’ve begun what I believe will be your life-long adoration of superheroes. (All this will certainly be chronicled shortly.) However, I’m stuck at SFO waiting for a plane that will leave more than two hours late to take me to LAX and then to Melbourne, Australia for eight days and nights. While I should be working on employee reviews or other woefully late work-related items, I’m musing on what an incredibly BIG BOY you’ve become. I’ve only left you for three nights of your whole life — a one-night trip to Las Vegas (which was for a life-changing business conference, not some raunchy all-girls weekend) and for a two-night work off-site in Napa (which I must admit did include a bit of, well, it would be fair to characterize as excess wine consumption). Both separations included many tears for both of us. I’ve tortured myself about this trip. I’ve put it off for quite a long time. I researched bringing you and Daddy for two weeks. But ultimately, Daddy and I decided it would be best if I focused on work. It was an excruciating decision. I wasn’t sure how you’d handle it. But my Little Man, you have been so mature. When I talked to you about the trip, the first thing you said to me was, “Mommy, I’m NOT going to cry. I promise.” Which of course made me tear up and wonder if it was OK if I cried. Ultimately we were both right. When you waved goodbye, you remained bright eyed and positive while Mommy and Daddy cried. As a marketer, I’m especially cognizant of selling ideas whether it’s to people who should be buying software online or to my Little Person. I said you were going to have a great time with Daddy. I said you would have a “Bachelor Week” and asked if you knew what that meant. I explained that while I was away, you could do things that Mommy wouldn’t like. “You mean like throw dominoes?” referring to the other night when you made a complete racquet — and perhaps dented portions of the room — by chucking a bunch of Google-branded dominos at the bedroom door in the dark. Yes, your week will consist of eating “Daddy Chips” (Doritos), domino throwing, STAR WARS watching, missions to Target, staying up late and perhaps a bit less bathing. You will love it.

You have been working on being so independent. Last night you decided to sleep in your “daytime” undies. No more nighttime undies for you. (Nighttime undies are pull-ups which are becoming a bit too small and uncomfortable.) And you had a DRY NIGHT! Great job Little Man. You are starting to try to sleep in your own Big Boy bed. You’ve done so a few times for long stretches until you get scared in the middle of the night and want a warm Mommy snuggle. Who could blame you? We all feel that way even when we’re super old like Mommy and Daddy. But each day you get bigger and more independent. Mommy and Daddy are so proud (but Mommy reserves the right to shed a tear or two.)

You will miss me. I will talk to you on Skype and on the phone (have I mentioned that I love technology?). It’s OK to cry. I will cry when you’re not looking.

When you’re a teenager and you read this, you will think I am silly and perhaps a bit embarrassing. When you’re older and have a family of your own, I hope you will appreciate the complexity of the feelings I’m experiencing as I’m about to board the airplane for what will be an adventure and learning experience for us both.

I love and adore you.

Mommy