About 18 months ago, I made a commitment to you that I would start keeping a journal again. This time, though, I would do it for you even though you were only seven months old. Sure, you're probably 19 as you read this, and in some college dorm. And I'm sitting at home hoping you maintain your chastity at least until I'm senile or dead, whichever comes first. 


Either way, I'm going to try to keep my commitment even though too much time has passed too quickly. You're two now, and I've missed the opportunity to detail when you said your first word, which was light, or started crawling, the day before Thanksgiving 2010. I doubt you'll hold that against me, but I'm getting to the stage where the firsts are coming more fast and furious than I could have imagined, and my ability to keep track of them all is quickly degenerating. At this point, I can barely keep track of my lunch, much less your ever growing ability to amaze me by doing things as simple as turning to me while we're taking a walk and saying, unprompted, "Love you, Daddy."


So, I'm going to try to keep a journal for you. And all that I ask of you in return is that you remember this one thing, and know it as truth for all times. No matter where you go in life, no matter what you do, Abbey Road will always be the greatest record ever made. Now, go get your internet-enabled hair brush, and find out what a record is.


The most recent thing you did to amaze me was this: While giving you a bath last Sunday night (Jan 8, 2012), you recognized and named, by site, every letter of the alphabet. I honestly don't know if that puts you ahead of any kind of intelligence curve, or is something you "should" have done 6 months ago. But either way, I was absolutely amazed. Your Mom and I have been singing the alphabet song to you since you were two or three months old, and reading to you since you were about two weeks old, but I still couldn't believe you could look at the letters (in no particular order) and name them off. And just in case you think that's no big deal, the level of pride I felt for you as you did that is no less than that I'll feel for you when you ace that physics exam you are so worried about. You know, 18 years from now when you're still a virgin in college.