I always start out my letters by saying "I can't believe how fast time goes . . ." It's not clever or creative, but it's true.
Unlike your brother's pre-birth name, Lumpy, your name, Chicken (and it's many variations) has stuck. This weekend, Mormor was with your brother and they had the following conversation:
Mormor: Cash, what is your brother's name?
Mormor: What's his real name?
Cash: Mac Chicken
Oh well chicky-baby, at least it's better than your brother's predominate nickname, Turd.
You are a sweet, chunky and smiley 3-month-old. Did I mention chunky? I don't really want this to become your defining characteristic, but seriously, you are a healthy, thriving baby. I actually had to buy you a new foam baby seat because the Bumbo cuts off the circulation in your legs and your feet were turning bluish/purple (although, you really didn't seem to mind).
You still sleep in our bed and although it's not always comfortable; I enjoy the closeness and I think we both sleep a lot better.
I'm in no hurry for you to grow up, but I'm looking forward to the development of your personality. Your father and I like to speculate on how you will act when you are two or three years old. Will you be brave like your brother? Will you be sensitive like your mother? Will you be funny like your father? Will you be forever chunky like the Pillsbury Dough Boy? Only time will tell and time can take it's time.
I love you forever and ever. Please be sweet to me, your dad and your brother and please don't grow up too quickly.