Wednesday, February 29, 2012

A Letter to Mom

Dear Mommy,

You look a bit frazzled.  Is it because I just ate a hunk of a hot dog out of the garbage can?  You did seem kind of upset when you busted me with it.  Your nose wrinkled up all funny and your eyes did that goofy roll thing again, a lot like when you told me not to eat the ashes out of the bottom of Daddy's grill.  I thought it was just funny colored sand, but the only way to find out for sure was to taste it.  You understand, right Mommy?

As for the hot dog, I guess I should have just eaten them at lunchtime, but Isaiah had already gone in the living room to watch Clifford the Big Red Dog and I felt left out.  It wasn't until later that I remembered I had left a couple pieces behind and I figured they were still probably ok to eat.  I'm sorry I made you mad.

Mommy, I really don't mean to make you upset.  Honest, I don't.  It's not like I really try to poop my diaper every single day in the middle of naptime.  It just....happens.  I promise you I'm not doing it on purpose.  And about that nap.  There are just so many other things I would rather do, Mommy!  You keep telling me to get back in bed and go to sleep, but it would be so much more fun to dig through the closet and find buried treasure.  Or maybe I could pull my socks off and dig for toe gunk.  Remember the other day when I emptied all the clothes out of the dresser?  That was epic. I had a blast.  But now that I'm thinking about it, you looked pretty angry when you came in the room and found the mess.  You even yelled at me, Mommy.  It made me cry when you put me back in bed because it scares me when you yell like that.  I wasn't trying to upset you, I just wasn't ready to sleep yet.

Deep down, I want to make you happy.  I also want to play with my cars, build a fort with pillows, paint my face with Crayola finger paint, and shove Play Dough up my nose just to see what it feels like.  I'm only two years old, Mommy.  I haven't really figured out yet what's right and wrong.  I'm relying on you to teach me that.  When something pops into my head....I just do it.  I haven't figured out yet how to think about whether or not that idea is a good one or just plain crazy.  I look to you for that.

Hug me more.  You spend all day hugging and kissing on Thomas, but I rarely get snuggles from you anymore.  I know I try to head-butt you most of the time, but it's just a game I like to play!  I don't really mean to hurt you or give you a bloody nose.  I swear, that was an accident.  If we're being totally honest here, I do kind of like pushing your buttons....just a little.  Sometimes I smile my little "trouble smile" and do something I know you don't want me to do.  For that moment, your attention is totally on me.

I'm curious, you know.  I'm still trying to figure out how to operate around here.  When I pulled all of the tissues of out the box, it's not that I was trying to be naughty.  I just wanted to know how many were in there.  And that time the other night when I dumped chicken broth all over the floor while you were feeding Thomas?  That totally wasn't my fault.  You told me it was chicken juice and to me, that sounds delicious.  Turns was not delicious.

Unfortunately, I have very little patience and a very short fuse.  I want to play with that car and I want to do it right now.  Why should I have to share with Isaiah if I got the car first?  He's the one who tried to take it from me, so he really deserved that kick to the face as far as I'm concerned.  I find it difficult to understand why I was the one who ended up in Time Out.  I don't like being told "NO."  I'm over here trying to enjoy myself and climb to the top of the couch and launch myself like a rocket, but you're being a bit of a downer by telling me NO.  I don't appreciate it.  Once again, why is it I get stuck in Time Out for telling you to "Shush!" but you're free as a bird despite your efforts to squash my good time?  Makes no sense.

When it comes right down to it, I think we're just going through a rough time right now, Mommy.  Things will get better when we can understand each other better.  I can't promise we won't have our disagreements, but please try to remember that I'm just a little boy.  I haven't been on the planet 3 years yet.  You've been around a lot longer, so please try to control your emotions a little better than I can.  Remember, I watching you and looking to you to teach me how to grow from a little boy into a man.

I'm glad we had this talk.  Smile at me.  Hug me tight.  Remind me of how much you love me, every day.  And take a few deep breaths before you speak when I frustrate you.  We'll get through this.  I love you, Mommy.  


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