Monday, March 03, 2008

Thirty Months: My Letter to Little Man

Last week, I was snuggling with you, all scrunched up in your little toddler breath, your breath the only sound in your darkened room. Suddenly, your hand reached out in the dark and you began caressing my hand while whispering "my mommy." I smiled so hard that my face hurt afterwards, and I know I've said this before, but you constantly manage to teach me that I continue to love you even more every day.

You've become quite the snuggle bug during this last month. You'll make me hold you for a few minutes in the morning, chest to chest, you kneeling on my lap, your head in my neck and that thick head of hair of yours tickling my cheek. If I'm in a rush and try to break the embrace before you're ready, you start to cry, this heartbreaking moan coming out of your lips like you've just been hurt to your core. And so I snuggle.

I snuggle because you're warm and you smell of lavender and sweetness and hope. I snuggle because during those minutes, the world becomes this amazing place filled with light and silence and wonderment. I snuggle because I know that soon enough, you'll be too big to snuggle with me and I'll cry as I remember those snuggly moments.

You've decided that children's television is for the most part beneath you. I say for the most part, because you still have a crush on that unblinking freak, Dora, and you happily watched two episodes of Dora in a row on Saturday, while doing your little white man dance anytime any of the badly drawn characters broke into song.

You've also decided that you are way too old for your mother to be cutting your food. I'm not sure if this is from school, as you are now in a class with older kids, who might be trusted with a sharp plastic disposable knife, which I'm sure could cut a piece of paper if you sawed at it for 20 minutes.

I have to give you all of your food uncut and give you a plastic knife. You usually try to cut with the serrated side up, and yet you still refuse my help. Because of this, your table manners have gone from almost decent to completely atrocious, but we have dogs, so I've accepted the fact that they can supplement their diet with hormone-free, antibiotic-free chicken with organic corn and my floor can pass as almost clean.

I discovered today that you live a double life. This is very strange to me, because I've always felt like if there's one person I know everything about, it's you. For the past few weeks, your backpack filled with eight pull-ups in the morning has come home with eight pull-ups at night. I was confused by this, because at your old school, where they supposedly changed you every hour, you'd begun developing really, really bad diaper rash, something you'd never have before. But at this new school, where I provide the diapers and where you've had a rash-free bum for four weeks now, our Pull-Up stash seemed to go unused.

This morning, I accidentally forgot your backpack and in a panic, I told your teacher I could run to Walmart to get some. She laughed and said "oh, he's got more Pull-Ups than he knows what to do with! Little Man goes in the toilet almost every time now."

I froze, confused and thinking she must be talking about someone else. Because at home? You'll sit on the potty for 20 minutes, happily coloring, but nothing ever comes out. I asked her to clarify that you were going in the potty and not just sitting on the potty and she laughed again and said "oh yes, he'll sit there, sing to himself and then call for us when he's done to help him." Which I don't understand this. So, you're potty trained? When did this happen? And why haven't you told us? Did you think it would hurt our feelings, like we enjoy wiping the smooshed up poop from your glutteus maximus? Because newsflash, when your dad and I are playing rock, paper, scissors to decide who has to go up there to change you, it's not because we're fighting over the nuclear waste you produce.

I wonder if you also know other things that you're not telling us. Like, maybe, just maybe, you can also read and write, but you figure that we'll worry about our job security and so you continue to shove book after book at us saying "You read it." Or maybe you can perform open heart surgery and you'll finally admit to this skill when we really need you to.

All I know is that you're now six months away from your third birthday. In just under eight months, your whole life will change. A little brother or sister will shatter your world. He/she will play with all your old toys, steal some of your snuggle time, drool all over your favorite puzzles. When I used to ask you if you wanted a baby, you used to shake your head and state firmly "no." As in, that's the worst idea you've ever had, please don't ever bring it up again.

A few days after I found out I was pregnant, I asked you again and you thought about it for a second and said "ok Mama, let's have baby today." On Saturday, I bought a baby swing at a consignment sale and you were fascinated by it "what's that, Mama?" I explained to you that it was a swing, for the baby.

The dog tried to approach the swing to snif it and you freaked out on him, yelling at him that it was for the baby and that he was never to even think of sniffing it again. I grinned and felt envious of your sibling. Because he/she will have the bestest big brother anyone could ever ask for.




Gerbil said...

Dora scares me. a lot.

Anonymous said...

Dora's a freak.

Way to go on the potty, Little Man!!

As always, your letters to him make me smile and, most likely, cause tears to form in my eyeballs (or, maybe that's the stench of my dog's butt??).


Wonderful World of Weiners said...

He WILL be the bestest big brother UNTIL he/she touches something that is OFF LIMITS!! Then oh boy, watch out!!

You make cute kids. Can't wait to see the next one!

Hallie :)

CPA Mom said...

I love these letters to Little Man - awesome!

oh boy, Mr. Potato many of the kits do you have for it?

"I Still Live With My Parents" t-shirt - best ever tshirt!

AndreAnna said...

Awww, he will be a great big brother! I wish my kid had some concept of another baby. She doesn't get it and is in for a rude awakening. LOL

And how funny is this? Charlotte has a crush on Diego! Whenever he comes on the Dora episodes and then leaves the scene, her eyes well up and her lip curls down, and she looks at me, hands in the air, "where Diego go?" - it is hysterical and heartbreaking all at the same time! LOL

Karen said...

What a wonderful letter to the little man. I love, love, love the glasses on him. And yeah for potty training! (Sort of.)

Sandy said...

Dora is a freak but Little Debbie scares me worse. I think she has something going with the Keebler

Little Man's secret life? Too funny! Locational potty training!

Kathryn said...

Aww. Already the protective older brother. I love it!

susan said...

I *heart* Groucho Little Man

Burgh Baby's Mom said...

Perhaps during those moments of silence as Dora is staring at us, willing us to answer whatever stupid question she made up this time, there is actually a very high-pitched (out of adult hearing range) brain-washing technique going on where Dora tells kids not to go poop in the potty at home. Anywhere but at home. Because holy mother of all thing beautiful and gummy, my kid is doing the damn same thing. It's gotta' be Dora's fault.

Anonymous said...

Don't let him play with mind then. He'll start telling him how awful it is to have a sibling. And, I'm so glad you managed to get our haul into the house. Did you get into trouble?

Emma in Canada said...

I so love these letters. And how about that toilet training! Funny the things that they manage to keep from you. Saoirse did that with the alphabet, which is, of couse, on a slightly lower level than peeing in a potty.

Morgan Leigh said...

Dora is weird. LOL. She's a little scary. What adorable pictures! Your letters are always so sweet! :)

Anonymous said...

This post made me smile to the core.

And only 2 back-to-back Dora episodes? Crap. Emma could watch the weirdo all day long... (but, ummm... I'm only really guessing..)

M said...

piss off. i didn't need a cry this early in the day.

i'm so in love with your little family. in a non stalkerish kinda way. though, really, i'd so love to stalk you. (ready to call the police yet? lol) just to be a fly on the wall in your home would be lovely. I have a feeling this boychild of yours is just outstanding in person. and you? you're probably a saggy haggy bitch which would make me feel better.'ll be fat soon and then i can like you again. ;)

Haphazardkat said...

Back pack! Back pack!
*mutters and tugs at my hair*
Thanksssss for putting THAT song back in my head!!

little man is wonderful!! And I have no doubt he'll make a fantabulous big brother :)

He IS going to make you PAY for those potty shots of his plastered for all the world to know this, right?


Karin's Korner said...

adorable, absolutely adorable.

A's Mom said...

What a beautiful letter to your son. I wish this was something I had done after my Little Man was born. I do keep a daily record of mini-milestones/events that happen. That has really helped when putting his scrapbook together. Those little moments pass by so quickly.

Rachel said...

Your letters to LM always make me teary!! And, then they make me laugh.

Dora is scary. Very scary.

Poodlehead said...

That was lovely. You will love having more than one child. With the first kid I couldn't believe they would let me leave the hospital with this new human - I felt so unprepared.

The second I snatched up and didn't put her down for about a month. She napped on my chest because I was so heart-breakingly in love I didn't want her far.

Bren said...

I love your letters too! And I love that picture of him in those glasses!