Dear preschooler,
It’s just about a new year. It’s the time of year when people start to think about resolutions and reflect on the time that has gone by. At this time of year, I particularly remember the Christmas that you were one and a half, when you were getting six teeth at the same time. It was a drool-filled Christmas that involved very little sleep. I think that Santa and I crossed paths around 3 am that Christmas Eve, him heading up the chimney, me heading to the kitchen to get a drink of water, bouncing you into a painful sleep on a carrier on my back.
It’s the time of year when I start to think about how I want to behave in the new year, and one of my resolutions is about you, my dear. It’s a vow to accept the kid I have. You know, I always thought that I would have a boy. As a young adult, I imagined myself with a sporty little boy, tromping through the trails around our home. That was the first surprise. I have a little girl who loves pink and toy trucks.
My second surprise was that you were supposed to sleep. You were, weren’t you? That little snoozy bundle of mine was supposed to sleep through the night at 6 weeks, because that’s what her daddy did. Not mine. No, you didn’t sleep much at all, and when you did, you loved to sleep near me and continue to do so, because you’re a snuggler. How did I get a snuggler? I’m not a snuggler. But you’re teaching me how.
You have an amazing imagination, my dear. You can play with your Playmobil and Lego all day. In fact, you much prefer to do this than to go puddle stomping or draw or become an adept early reader. Your father read at age three. I played outdoors all day. You have your own passions, and these include Lego and baking. The baking might come from me, the Lego not so much.
My dear preschooler – I love you. I love you for the fact that you want to make carrot soup by yourself and that you can’t stand it when I sing Jingle Bells because it gets in your head. I love you when you wake me up at night or grump about my propensity towards rainy-day walks in the woods, then get converted to the idea when you see the mist rising from the trees.
This coming year, I resolve to love the kid I have.