K, you love your “buller.”

You mean “butter,” of course.

But you say it “buller.”

You are going through that phase that every kid goes through, where you can eat literally eat butter by the spoonful.

And you do.

I say that, but H can still do the same thing.

We made waffles the other day and you ate nothing but the butter off the top.

By the time we were almost done, you were eating it off the end of the butter knife.

Frankly, I can’t believe you like butter even more than the syrup.

You are especially on a “butter and tortilla” kick right now.

“Torta and buller.”

We about make a meal out of it every time we go to On The Border.

You are perfect in every way.

And my word, you are adorable with your pigtails.

I’ll see you in 15 minutes.

I love you.

-Dad

K, I have some stubble on my face and you want me to please cut it.

It started in Corpus.

We had finished swimming and I bent down to kiss you while we were laughing and playing.

When I did you gave me an ugly look, reached up, swiped the palm of your hand across my cheek, and said:

Cut it.

I thought you were teasing me, but you said it again.

Admittedly, I had forgotten both my razor and trimmer and was more prickly than usual.

But you have repeated this two to three times a day since we have been back home.

And I have trimmed it!

It’s like you are demanding I shave it down to a smooth babyface.

I love you.

-Dad