Although your father and I decided long ago that we were done having children. We had moved from Apgar scores to Abecrombie in the blink of an eye. Yet the yearning to give it another go became too much and there you are. You adorable little guinea squash of ours.

I want to thank you for the pleasure you give as I go out to visit you and water you in the afternoon sun.
You have never asked for money or a ride to the mall. You have never flushed your cell phone down the toilet or in a fit of rage yelled the "f" word at your fellow Burpee Hybrids. You don't sneak off to friend's houses to dye your hair pink and then cry for 2 days when it turns a dull puce after swimming in your friend's pool. Never once, Baba Ganoush, have you dressed up our cat in American Girl doll clothes or demanded we start calling you Mrs Justin Beiber. I have never once seen your thong purposely sticking out of your yoga pants nor have I seen your butt hanging out of your Hollister cutoff micromini super short shorts.

My little Moussaka, you look solemn and studious yet I often wonder if when you grow bigger only to spend hours trying to hack into the cable box to unlock "Teen Mom" and "The Jersey Shore" all the while ignoring homework until minutes before school. Could you text FML (meaning " 'F' My Life) to your friends when I refuse to purchase a $150 extension for your hair? Will you change your status to "My MOM is a BEAST!!!" on Facebook?
I think not Eggplant....I think not.....

Love Mama Ratatoulle
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