Friday, November 6, 2009

an open letter to my son

My dearest, darling HB,


You are the biggest surprise I've ever had in my entire life. Who knew a nine pound twelve ounce baby could arrive after only 22 weeks of being pregnant?!?! You've added to my life in so many ways, I can barely keep track.

The dimple. In your right cheek. Yes, the one on your face. It kills me. Your big, blue eyes, your gape-mouthed-full-of-teeth smile, that laugh that causes people to stop in their tracks and join in your fun and merriment.

You are so adorable, I can't even stand you. You are going to turn three soon, and you'll probably be hell on wheels, because that's what three year-olds are. We learned quickly that the Terrible Twos was a total misnomer, coined by someone who thought two year-olds were slightly taller and a teensy bit more well-spoken than they really are.

But here's the thing: YOU ARE NOT THREE YET. So dispense with the constant screaming, and I swear to the Almighty Maker of our world if you call me STUPID STUPEY POOPEY one more time I just might start acting all stupid stupey poopey just to show you how good you really have it, buster.

And while we're at it? I really, really, really do not enjoy sliding my half-asleep self under your bed in the middle of the night when you have lost your binky. Maybe if you shouted at me a little less and kept your saucy mouth closed, you wouldn't lose your binky. Just a suggestion.

One final thought: Candy is not a meal.

Hugs and kisses,
Mama
aka Stupid Stupey Poopey Head

6 comments:

Stephanie said...

ha, ha, ha!
I love it!

especially the part about the saucy mouth. too funny.

Steph

jen said...

candy is not a meal ... hilarious.

Middle Aged Woman said...

At three years of age, my son called me the worst thing he could think of, "Ya big butt!"

Jenni said...

what? candy is not a meal? they don't teach you that in parent school.

Jenni said...

what? candy is not a meal? they don't teach you that in parent school.

Michele said...

Isn't that sweet? HB is demanding his independence. Don'cha want to smack him? Oops did I say that? I meant love him.

The binky thing. Times up. For me by 2 it was time to hang it up. I convinced my son that it was a nasty gross thing. I never bought another one. When the old one got gross we made a big thing about how gross it was. He threw it out on his own. Trickery. The best way to parent.

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