Dear Timmy,

I love the way you grab my head and hug it really, really tight and then try to yank my hair out with your little fists and eat my eyebrows.  And how you grab my hair in your teeth and pull.  And how you give me open-mouthed kisses, even if I do have to watch out. (My poor recovering bruised arm is proof of that.  You bit it right at the end of Relief Society last week, pinching a tiny piece of skin tight in your little teeth.)  I love you, you silly boy.  Ow!