Dear Big Boy,
Today was an odd Monday. Usually I work late but because of a meeting I had to go in early. You were so tired this morning. Your tiny face and what chub is left of your cheeks was all matted with red marks from sleeping on your blankie. The sun was shining bright even though it was a cold cold day today. I opened the drapes in your room and talked through your Peter Pan stuffed toy in order to get you to wake up. (You weren’t responding when I was talking as myself.)
You asked to wear your Party Clothes again, which basically meant a button down flannel shirt and jeans instead of the playclothes and sweatpants I usually dress you in to go to the sitter’s. I packed a homemade cookie in your lunch, which is an extra special treat since we never have cookies or sweets usually around the house.
Lately you’ve been so interested in helping me cook or bake. It’s so fun and I love that you get your stool out and take up all the room in the kitchen, asking me what’s next and if you can stir or dump it. I think your assistance MAY have caused my meatloaf to become more meat, less “loaf” but it was still delicious due to ALL the ketchup you added in. Thank you for that.
After a busy weekend of visiting other people’s houses- your friend Sion next door and Uncle Bert and Aunt Kristen, you decided that you didn’t want to live with us anymore. At bedtime you said you didn’t want to live here anymore “because it is too stinky.” I think that was just carried over from the fact that I sneaked your blankie into the laundry because it smelled so bad of pee that if anyone found it they would assume it’d been lining a kitty litter box. When you smelled the lavender scent of Tide, you gagged and yelled, “MY BLANKIE IS SO STINKY NOW! YOU WASHED IT!” For shame! How dare I?
You have a pimple on your nose and I can only assume it’s from either a) not letting me wash your blankie that you wrap around your face or b) that your dirty little fingers rub against it when you push your glasses up the bridge of your nose.
Tonight at bedtime, you threw a fit that was clearly a flag of pure exhaustion, over three days of no naps, constant fun. You did not want to take a bath, you wanted to play. Play. PLAY!!! And you cried and cried as I washed you up and put your pajamas on you. You cried and cried as I tucked you in and turned out the light and explained that we can’t tell stories on nights that you cry like that. And you stopped crying to apologize, which ALMOST makes me cave to tell you a story- until I brush my hands over your face and place with your hair and notice your eyes are so heavy and look rimmed in pink eye liner that it REALLY needs to be time for you to go to sleep.
I left your room feeling victorious, because you did not notice that you didn’t have your pacifier, and I thought maybe you would kick the habit in one night, just like that. As soon as I texted your grandpa that I thought I was winning the pacifier fight, you yelled for me to come upstairs. Upon entering your room you said, “I need my nuk no I WANT my nuk, just until I go to pweee-school” I said, “Oh, I thought you were being a big boy and didn’t need it anymore so I didn’t give it to you.” But I reluctantly handed it over and you said “thank you” three times. And you were passed out quickly thereafter.
You are such a big boy. You are so tall, wearing big kid clothes and adding words like “actually” into your sentences. It is bizarre to watch you draw letters and explain to me how to pronounce things. You rhyme words and ask questions that make me think about my answers. Being your mom is only hard because you make me think. Everything else about it is so tremendously easy.
In the car on the way to our friend Jack’s house we mentioned that Jack is going to have a baby brother soon, and that a baby is in Jack’s mommy’s tummy. For the umpteenth time, you said, “Someday I am going to have a baby sister.” I said, “Are you sure? Wouldn’t a baby brother be cool?” You said, “No, I want a sister like daddy.”
Gabe confessed that he preferred having a sister to having a brother. And I like having both equally, though I suppose it doesn’t count since I AM a sister. The whole thing about you wanting a sister so badly makes me ache and smile at the same time, with the same amount of force. It also makes me nervous in case you would end up with a brother someday. (I would be thrilled by it, but I’m not sure we could convince you to feel the same way.) At any rate, kiddo. We’re trying, I promise. I know how bad you want one.