My Dearest Son: An Open Letter To All Toddlers

So, this isn't really addressed to all toddlers from any mother, but it can be easily adapted to fit your situation. You're welcome.

Dearest Son,
             Yelling and screaming at me because I insist you stay in the play room with your sister does not help my back. Also, running around after you all through the house also does not help my back. I know you haven't had a nap today but, really, who's fault is that? If I try to get you to lay down you proceed to accost me with your cement-like melon and scream for an hour. I suppose the snot-and-tear facial you gave me should count for something, though, right?

Perhaps the walls at your level are rather plain, and while I do appreciate your creative use of crayons; must we use black, yellow, and purple to accentuate the scuff marks on the base boards? I was thinking of something a little more subtle and earth-toned, to be honest. Your inventive use of toy cars and a soccer ball to scale the bookcase was rather impressive, as well. I know you were disappointed that you didn't nail that landing, but there is always next time!

While we are on the subject of cranial injuries, I would like to take this time to remind you that your head is, in fact, not a battering ram. The bloody nose you gave your father last week and the minor concussion and accompanying large bruise I received a month ago was completely uncalled for. Although, I have to admit, the shades of yellow, purple, blue and green in that bruise have yet to be matched in nature.

I must try your new skin regimen of yogurt, dirt, and peanut butter. Honestly, I have never seen skin so smooth and supple! Is it the exfoliation of the dirt that does it, because you really do work that in with vigor. I am a bit put off by the stickiness of the yogurt mask, though. Do you eventually peal it off or let it set on the skin until it dries? And the peanut butter finishing cream is genius!

In closing, my wonderful little boy, I have to thank you for all the love, hugs, and kisses I get every day from you. Yes, sometimes they are completely inappropriately timed or placed; like when you hugged your father's crotch or tried to kiss my butt cheek while I was sitting on the toilet, but I assure you that each display of affection is a gift I covet. Sometimes your hugs are a bit moist, occasionally stinky or sticky, but there is no boy's macaroni and cheese-sauce covered hand prints I would rather have adorning the back of my knees. You are my greatest treasure, son. And we will love you for ever and always.

...even if you like to run head first into walls while screaming the alphabet. 


                           Mom and Dad.