Well, you asked....

I was cleaning my closet out, which means I ran into a cloud of dust and my head filled up with snot. You came into the bedroom to take advantage of the chance to snuggle in our bed. I blew my nose and said "That's disgusting!"
To which you replied, "What's disgusting?"
So I showed you.
And you screamed. And ran. And said "Oh my God! What was that?!?" about a million times.
And I laughed. And wheezed. And laughed harder. And had to sit down so I wouldn't pee.

I suppose one had to be there to appreciate the humor, but you were, so one day you'll read this and sigh "Those were the good old days..."

Love,
Mom

Someday you will have forgotten this.

You will read this and be reminded, and laugh as hard as your Dad I did...

So your sister came out to the kitchen with something in her mouth. I asked her what was in her mouth, and she spits out a piece of glass! Oh the horrors! We had just had a glass break in the kitchen the day before, but we were sure we'd gotten it all up. Then to see that glass come out of her mouth....
I couldn't imagine how she hadn't cut herself until I looked the glass over. It was oddly smooth- kind of like sea glass, only perfectly clear. Your Dad came out to the kitchen to look at this odd glass, and was holding it up when you came into the kitchen. "Oh!" You say, "That's my rock candy! I'm sure of it!"
Then you cautiously hold it up to your tongue and taste it.
"Yep!" you say, and pop it into your mouth.
This is when your Dad says
"So let me get this straight. You dropped that piece of candy on the floor. Then your sister sucked on it for a while, then you ate it."
Oh the agony! You couldn't get over the horror of it, and we couldn't stop laughing. Still makes me giggle.

Glad no one was hurt,
Your Mom

Growing Boy

The other day you said you were headed to the shower. "I stink of puberty" were your exact words.

Yep, puberty stinks, but you haven't truly figured that out yet. You're tickled because today you got your first real zit- a cute little whitehead on your cheek. I'm sorry that you won't always think they're cute.

The week before last you came out of the bathroom all excited because you were sure you'd grown armpit and pubic hair. Haven't checked your crotch, but there is no real armpit hair, just peach fuzz. I hated to bring out down. You've watched almost all your friends shoot up and sprout hair and heard their voices change- you don't understand why it hasn't been your turn yet. You wanted me to buy regular milk to see if the BGH wouldn't help things.

Lately you've been driving me and Simon CRAZY. You go all sullen and rude. You insist you have to be right about something and won't listen to a word we say. You go deaf at random intervals. You take fourteen million times as long to do a job as any normal, healthy person should.

I love you anyway. Often, after you blow up in some spectacular fashion, you apologise and say you'll never do it again. I always say "Yes you will, but I'll still love you anyways".

It's true,
Mom

Ghosts in the walls

This morning you had me turn off the sink because you heard a noise. We stood there in the kitchen and strained to hear it. It sounded like it was coming from the hall, so I followed you out there, then it was coming from outside the door, so we went through, and standing right next to you I heard it clear as day. The doorbell was screeching and chattering like something out of a sci-fi movie. I felt it and the wall around it and it wasn't hot, but I figured I'd call the landlord anyway. Once I got on the phone with her I went back to the doorbell, but the noise had quit. We chatted a while. When I got off the phone you said you'd never be able to concentrate on your reading with that racket, but you were hearing it in the living room now. I went in there, but now you were hearing it in the kitchen! I'm following you all around the house trying to figure out what wall it's coming from when you call me from your bedroom.

It was your gameboy. In your pocket. Squeaking.

So.

You were kind enough to volunteer to call the landlady and explain what bubble-headed boobs we are. I was so proud of you for doing that. I can't imagine doing that when I was your age. Then you talked about being so embarrassed. I pointed out that I'd made the same mistake that you did, and I'm the grown-up...

Hope you can laugh about this soon- it's funny!
Love,
mom

You try so hard.

You do. All the time. And yet, when I try to point out how much effort of will that takes I can see that you don't believe me.

You are truly the sweetest boy I know. Good at heart. An honest to goodness angel. I try and try to communicate that I believe this to be true about you but I feel like I never get through.

Someday you'll be bigger and older and maybe you'll be ready to hear it when you read this. I hope so, because you really are a wonderful person. I promise I'm going to keep trying. It's probably me somehow- I'm just not saying it often or loud enough, or I spend more time saying Don't and Quit. Or I say it often, but not often enough because you're paying attention to the Don'ts and Quits.

When it's all said and done, I know you're going to be just fine. I wish I could spare you some of the pain of growing up. Open your eyes to how amazing you are, how pointless and petty other people's attentions can be.

I love you so much,
Mom