We went to your first funeral today. They're not fun. I'm hoping you don't have to go to another one for a LONG time. You were, as usual, absolutely wonderful. You do so well in public. I'm so glad I made the decision to take you out a lot. You seem to be so in love with your Aunt Christi. She loves it. I do too. :)
Your crawling is slowly but surely improving and you're beginning to notice tables and act like you are trying to figure out how to pull up. Hopefully you won't be in a hurry to learn that new skill, we still need to do some baby-proofing.
Going to the funeral today made me realize I don't want one. I don't want you to ever have to sit in some poorly decorated room filled with gaudy flower arrangements staring at my dead body. I want to be creamated. I want you to have a party to remember how much fun I was to have around. I don't want you to hurt. And I don't want someone who, probably, barely knows me spouting off about what a perfect person I was. Instead, tell stories about the time I whipped your butt in front of all your friends because you backtalked me and of how I never was a really great cook but you appreciated the effort...whatever. Just don't cry. I won't leave until you can handle it. I promise.
I love you Parker!