Dear Mama, remember when you complained last weekend about how sore your legs were from doing Karen (150 wallballs)? Well, respectfully, mama, I wish you could live a day in my soft-soled moccasins. Roughly 10 times a minute for hours and hours I pull up to the standing position, survey where I am and what I can reach, then make my way back to the floor. I think of this as my training, because daddy says I’ve got the predisposition to being a very athletic kid. The next time he complains because I want to eat twice during the middle of the night, I’ll remind him of that story you told me when he woke up and ate a full meal in the middle of the night for months so he could get stronger.
Dear Daddy, why in the world did you tell Mama about our great adventure earlier this week? Remember, we went to that park with the river at 9 a.m. when it was 40 degrees outside and you let me splash in the puddles and soak my clothes? Mama did not sound too happy that you let me do whatever I wanted, but I sure am glad we’re on the same page. In the future, let’s just keep these fun adventures to ourselves, especially once I’m a teenager. That way, neither one of us will get in trouble.
Dear Daylight Savings, you are very confusing for a baby. One day, I’m on a walk with mama late afternoon, and the next day it’s almost dark by the time mama picks me up from daycare. Don’t you know I need my walks outdoors to be in my happy place? Mama took me to the mall to stroll around on Monday, and while it was nice to see all those bright lights, I could tell neither one of us was truly happy about it. Winter already has one strike against it because of all the warm layers that Mama stuffs me into. Reduced sunlight is strike No. 2.
Dear Cousin Eden, I had so much fun playing with you in Blue Ridge, Ga., this past weekend. It sure was fun taking leaves from you and ripping them into pieces. I can’t wait to see you this Christmas. Mama says you may be walking and talking a lot by then, but that I’m on my own time table, as evidenced by my lack of teeth. I told mama that’s ok with me, because one day I’ll be able to bench press you with ease. You definitely don’t need any teeth for that.
Tags: friday's letters