Today I tried to teach you the word “no.” You were sitting on the edge of my desk and kept turning around to poke the keyboard. Last time I let you do this you set the computer’s language to Indonesian and all my fonts to size 200, so I felt compelled to stop you.
I took you by the hands, looked straight into your eyes and said “no.” You looked mildly annoyed and then tried again, and then again and again and again, twisting your body and flapping your arms in protest, each time met with a solid “no.” Finally you sat perfectly still on the desk and just stared into my face, your big eyes guilty as sin. I didn’t understand why until I saw your tiny hand reaching behind your back, ever so quietly, to tap on the spacebar.
I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
Do you know you’re a boy? It seems like you do. You are messy and gross and always eating bugs and pulling at your wiener. You like it when we roughhouse and tickle and throw you around. I don’t understand, I rarely dress you in blue and I gave you a doll. Why are you always playing with your tractor? I don’t know how to play tractor. Also, why are you so noisy? You scream when you’re happy, when you’re sad, when you’re taking a giant poo. Yesterday you spent an entire 20 minutes screeching like a bobcat in heat because you didn’t want to be in your car-seat. I just turned the music up. Sorry.
It seems like I’m saying I’m sorry a lot lately. Like I’m sorry you don’t understand that I am not your personal slave or I’m sorry you gagged on the broccoli I didn’t cut up properly or I’m sorry you smacked your mouth on the table and there was blood everywhere. I really am sorry it’s so hard to be a baby, but it’s hard to be an adult too. Enjoy pooping in your pants and being praised for the smallest of tasks because it won’t last long. As an adult, no one will clap and say “good boy” when you give them a slobbery kiss (I hope). No one will carry you around. No one will tell you how cute you are on the hour, every hour. Unless you’re Brad Pitt. I hope you’re not Brad Pitt.
Almost everyone tells us we need to kick you out of our bed. At first it made me anxious, now I just smile and nod. Even though it was awful at first, co-sleeping has become our little family’s secret gem. We all brush our teeth together and then get into bed for pillow talk. When you get fussy, we turn the lights off and go to sleep. It’s really not that complicated. I know you’ll have to sleep in your own bed someday, but for now I’ll enjoy the cuddling and sweet baby breath. I’ll enjoy watching you sit up in your sleep only to crash back down a few seconds later. I’ll enjoy our slow morning wake ups and giggles under the covers. I’ll enjoy it because I know it’s not forever.
Sometimes I worry I’ll never be ready to give you a brother or a sister. You love kids so much. Whenever we are around your cousins or any of your baby friends, you light up like Christmas morning and want to suck their face. It’s precious. You follow them around and don’t care if they take your toys. You just want to be close to them and maybe stick your finger in their mouth. It melts my heart. The day after you were born, your dad was ready for another baby. I guess this makes sense as it wasn’t his vagina that split open like a watermelon.
It may be a long time before you read these letters…
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