I haven’t been updating my blog lately -- partially owing to sheer exhaustion (I have one of those non-sleeping-babies-- one of the 2011 models every one has been trying to get their hands on) and partially owing to a weird case of writer’s block that has to do with only wanting to write serious, sentimental posts. And because my blog is titled Trying to Find My Funny, I don’t want my tens of readers to be disappointed. So perhaps I should just start a sister blog entitled Trite and Maudlin (Overtired and Stupid is another title I have been toying with). Anyway, I will try to get back to funny ASAP but the following is a letter that I wrote to Benji last night after his pre-preschool graduation (yeah, that’s right). To be honest, it wouldn’t have been that hard to make it funny, but in this instance I was going for sincerity as this letter was written primarily for me and of course, for Benji. That being said, I am happy to post it for the other saps who might be lurking among us. If you are not a sap (or at the very least a mother), stop reading here. Really. I would like to be able to look you in the eye the next time I see you.
Here it is:
Dear Benji,
Today was your preschool graduation. Actually, that’s a lie. It was your pre-preschool graduation because you are going back next year. So really, it was just the last day of your first year of school. It was the last day of your first year of school. How did that happen?
Soon there will be a mess of graduations that are going to be hurled my way faster than I can stand to think about as you metamorphose into a “grown up man” (the kind that can use knives and chew gum and have as many big dogs as he can fit into his grown-up-man-house)(which will be adjacent to mommy and daddy’s house, obviously) which is why today I am a little (read: very) weepy when I think about how adorable you looked in your little cap and man-shirt at your pre-preschool commencement ceremony.
I am so proud of you, my sweet boy. You are funny and affectionate and kind and musical. You speak in rhyme and in song. You dance for no reason (the “hockey dance” is currently my favourite) and you are the slowest walker I have ever met. You hold your baby sister’s hand in the stroller and you like to point out when she is being cute (or doing something wrong--- “No, Aviva, no!” are words we hear with some frequency).
You are loving and open -- declaring different friends to be “your favourite guy” after a fun time in the park or at school. You love soccer (but hate the idea of someone taking the ball away from you) as well as baseball-- despite never having seen, nor played, a game.
You are smart. You have known the alphabet and have been able to identify all your letters and numbers since long before you were two. You learned our phone number on the way to school one morning. You are learning to spell and you remember names and stories and people. You are so smart.
You are shy around “big kids” as well as big groups of kids but are happy to charm any adult, regaling them with anecdotes, puns and knock knock jokes. You pick out your underwear every morning by laying out an “underwear buffet” though you will take off whatever underwear you painstakingly chose the moment you somehow get wind of the fact that “Thomas on the bum” is clean. You are currently in bed happily telling stories to yourself so loudly that I can hear you through the door and across the hall.
You still love to hold my hair just as you did when you nursed (just over 2 years ago) and you still suck your fingers just as you did on the day you were born (just over three years ago). You like to cuddle and listen to stories and give hugs. When you sleep you still look like my baby. You always smell like my baby. But you are growing up.
The day you were born was the happiest day I had ever had and since then the days have been even happier. I am glad that my heart is one of those new burstproof models, otherwise it would have blown to pieces years ago.
Benjamin Bunny, next year is your last year of preschool. And before I know it, there will be another graduation.
I want this year to go by slowly. I want all the years to go by slowly. I love being your mommy and as much as I will love, adore, be amazed by, the next version of you, I need you to know how crazy I am about three-year-old you and how much I am going to miss that guy.
Happy pre-preschool graduation Bunny. I love you.
