Sunday, December 02, 2007

Twenty-Seven Months: My Letter to Little Man

So you and I, we're buddies, right? So I have a couple of questions for you, and I'd like you to answer them honestly. First, why is that you think that if I ask you if you want an apple or cereal for breakfast that responding with "cookies?" will get me to change my mind? We don't have cookies in the house. Not because I'm against cookies per say, but the times I do buy cookies, they barely make it out of the store alive, because I'm busy shoveling them down as fast as I can, like I'm practicing for some eating competition. If you were a woman, you would totally understand how this lack of control can occur. My second question to you is why the hell do you feel the need to jam your sharp little fingers right in my eyeball every. single. time I wear my glasses? I realize they're crooked, but that's because you got a hold of them when you were younger and treated them like they were silly putty. I also realize I look like an unattractive version of Tina Fey with them on. But you making me more blind is not going to help, I promise.



You've made me laugh so hard this month that I'm pretty sure I've permanently pulled an abdominal muscle. I wish I wrote it all down, but seriously, following you around with my laptop all day wouldn't be very conducive, because the second you see my laptop, you like to hit all the keys as hard as you can while yelling what letter they are. And laptops? They don't like your abuse very much.

The other day, I put you in your car seat and your Ernie doll was waiting for you there. You picked him up, took one look at him and said "Oh my gosh! Ernie's a mess!" This made me laugh so hard, because you sounded like one of those makeover show hosts. And because, seriously? You still poop your pants, so who are you to judge?



Yesterday, we drove by the SPCA and I thought we could go in to look at the dogs and cats, because one, it's free and two, you share my love of animals, specifically my love for putting ridiculous things on them, like leis, and taking their picture while they sit there humiliated. As we pulled up to the building, I explained to you that this is where Satan's Dog came from. You nodded gravely and said "yeah, me too." Apparently? It only took two years, two months, three weeks and six days for you to decide that surely, you must be adopted, because you don't sing as off key as I do and you surely aren't as insane.

Your love of music has deepened further this month. If you hear a song you particularly like, you'll sit silently, listening intently until it's done. When it's over, you'll clap and cheer and tell me "Mama, I like it." Because you know I need more explaining than the average person, and when people clap and cheer around me? I'm usually confused as to whether this is a sign of their love or hatred. If I offer to play the song for you again, you look at me like I've just offered you world peace and chocolate. That? Makes me feel like I might be the most powerful person on Earth.



You've also developed a passion for cooking, which is so amazing to me, because growing up, I couldn't have cared less about anything domestic. I think I only knew where the kitchen in my house was because ever so often, there'd be chocolate kept there. But you demand to sit on the counter while I cook. And you'll take out every single one of my stirring utensils. This greatly amuses me, as your father used to complain that when I cook I use every pot, bowl and spoon we own. Now he's discovered that actually, I wasn't that bad until you came along. You'll happily hold a measuring spoon as I pour the milk, sugar or whatever ingredient we might need into it and then when you dump it in the bowl or pot or whatever else I ask you to do, you literally beam, and I swear angels are coming out of your ears and harps are coming out of your nose. Your grandfather is a trained chef, and your godmother, my sister, used to always be with him in the kitchen growing up. You, have obviously inherited their love of cooking, and I'm hoping, by default their talent. I'm thinking this means that at 10 years old you'll be making perfectly velvety Hollandaise sauce, and bring me Eggs Benedict to bed every Sunday morning. Right?



We took you to see Disney on Ice's Finding Nemo and you kept telling us the next day "I saw Nemo." Just in case we forgot. I was amazed that you sat through the whole thing, while your bored father fidgeted beside you the whole time. But you, you sat there silently taking it all in and ever so often, I'd whisper in your hair "do you see Nemo?" And you'd nod that yes indeed, there he is, out of the television screen and twirling around like the little gay fish we all knew he was.



You can't stand it when I try to do too much. You'll sigh dramatically as you're playing with blocks or a puzzle and you'll pat the ground or the chair next to me and say "Sit Mama!" That statement always brings a mixture of love and warmth, with a touch of guilt, as I wonder if you ask me to be with you because you simply feel that I'm not there enough.

Picking you up from school remains my favorite part of the day. As soon as you spot me at the door, you'll drop everything you're doing, run to me, without caring which child you mow down, and scream "MAMA! MAMA!" It's like something in a movie and it's all I can do to not squeeze you so hard that I end up breaking you. All I want to do in that moment is embrace you as hard as I can, twirl you around and wait for the music's crescendo to occur. Because surely real life can't be this great, can it?



You've become extremely bossy to your dogs, which is a little disconcerting, and yet so hilarious, because the things that come out of your mouth, are priceless? In your defense, those damn dogs are always harrassing you. You can't have any item of food in your hand without them plotting ways to extract it from you. This causes you great distress, and you've learned that your words are all you have to fight back. And so you'll wave your empty hand at them and scream their names followed by "Get away! RIGHT NOW!!!! This is Little Man's!" or "Stop it! RIGHT NOW!!!! You go outside! Be nice!" And all the dogs hear is "Wah-wah wah wah wah!" and they think "the little human seems more angry than usual, he might drop his animal cracker and we must stick our cold nose in the crook of his neck and give him another wet willie."

Your dad has officially turned you into a Cowboys fan, which brings him such great joy that really, you could accomplish nothing else with your life and he'd still be perfectly happy. My favorite part? You don't quite understand that there are other teams in the NFL. Some Cowboys fans would tell you that you are correct, the only real team is the Cowboys. But everytime you notice football on the television, you'll glance over at your dad and yell "Go Cowboys! Whoo-hoo!" All I can think is that I must get you to a hockey game ASAP.



I love you my Little Man,

Maman.

11 comments:

Kellie said...

Each month, these letters becoming more and more entertaining to me and I LOVE them.

:)

MinneapolisMom said...

I love this!! Some of it I can definitely relate to, as I have a 20 month old of my own...some of it I know is coming...so it makes me laugh even harder. Good stuff!

crytms said...

awesome and sooo sweet...love it...your lil man is adorable

troysmama20 said...

so sweet!

Sandy said...

When you were describing picking him up from daycare, I could hear the music...

Great job and wonderful candid pics.

BEEBOP said...

well said, beautifully put, and handsome boy!!!

AnGlOpHiLe FoOtBaLl FaNaTiC said...

Wow. He's getting taller!! And, way to score the brownie points with the Nemo. I can imagine the Hub loving that one! Ha. I've seen him watch the clock at little gym, let alone nemo on ice!! You train him to cook & your future DIL will LOVE you! Oh, and mine does the football thing, too, but he says it's all Irish. Cowboys are a no no in this house. From Mom & Dad's point of view.

Jesse said...

I can't believe how big he is getting. I love your letters-they make me think of my little ones especially my Monkey since he is almost 2. Really where does the time go?

M said...

As usual the two of you are fantastic and I want one for Christmas. One you. One him. Make it so. (And you can bring the husband if you must though, really? He fidgeted at Nemo on ice? I'm not so sure about him now...)

Rachel said...

I've said it before, but, I love the letters to Little Man!

http://www.poopydigs.com said...

So sweet! He'd make a perfect companion for Ella. He loves to cook, she likes to clean. He likes listening to music, she like dancing to it.