Letter to Dane, 540 (Part Warp Speed, Baby)

Hey, Little Man.

Yes, I’m writing you letters again. No, this time I promise I won’t mention the glad wrap incident or all of your embarrassing nicknames. (Well, I might mention one or two, snugglebuggy. What? I’m still the mommy here.)

You’re awfully busy, friend. Today I looked through a doorway and found you pushing your fire truck down the hall and muttering whee-eww, whee-eww under your breath. You won’t go outside without your ball cap, and you think your basketball goal is the coolest toy you’ve ever seen, except for the motorized Jeep owned by the three-year-old down the street. I would call him spoiled but you’re getting one for Christmas next year. Don’t tell Daddy.

I still refuse to cut your hair, and I’m sure at seventeen you’re going to look back on photos at this stage of life and complain to me about your shag. But I love to run my fingers through those curls and feel the under-damp after your nap, and oh, the smell of it, baby, the smell. I could eat you, if you weren’t so busy with your trains and toy motorcycles and mow-mow, and leaking mucus from here to kingdom come. I love all of you, mucus included, but I’ll pass on getting personal with your snot unless it’s a medical necessity. Some day, you’ll understand.

You’re trying to get words into sentences now, and you’re gleeful over rolling banana slices around your placemat like wheels, and unless you’re asleep, you’re stuck on turbo speed. Every morning and every afternoon, we go out and wave at the school bus, and the driver, Mr. Greg, stops and waves back at us. Today, you opened and closed your fist, asking him to honk. You love lawn equipment of any kind, the mail truck, the garbage truck, your green plastic shovel (DIG! DIG!) and Puppy (who, by the way, has developed an odor despite many, many washings. We’re going to have to address this, posthaste.).

I don’t know, little man, about this growing up business. Of course I wouldn’t want it any other way. But when you’re racing around the house at a thousand miles an hour, all I want to do is scoop you up and breath you in and hold you. We’re not getting these moments back. It’s not always easy and it’s almost never perfect, but as your father has observed in the past, things in our house are at their best when they’re just a little sideways. So when I cover you in kisses or cut off your air supply by hugging you too tight or insist on wiping you down with one last Boogie Wipe, have patience with your mama. You’re headed towards warp speed, baby, and all I want, to paraphrase a country song, is a slow down.

 Dirt, baby.

Love,

Mommy

p.s. That puppy thing has to happen. Sorry, little dude. Puppy needs a dip.

p.p.s. Hey, Yeah Write folks: I wrote this last week and linked up with Alison at Mama Wants This and Galit at These Little Waves for Memories Captured, so if you’ve already read it, I’m sorry! I’m out of town for a few weeks and more behind than usual. Thanks, y’all! -s

 

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31 thoughts on “Letter to Dane, 540 (Part Warp Speed, Baby)

  1. Love this. Such a beautiful letter to your boy. It captures so much – not only the little details but the overwhelming, heart swelling emotion. And the hair!! I love my younger son’s hair and fear he will want to shave it off like his older brother. That would break my heart.

  2. I feel almost like I’m…intruding, for lack of a better word. This letter is just bursting with so much love. Makes my heart ache, in a good way. ❤ ❤ ❤

  3. Oh so sweet! When he outgrows the cute and cuddly stage, it’s time for #2 🙂 That’s how my parents got 5…they loved the baby stages!!

  4. Oh how much did I love reading this! I just cut off both my boys curls that looked so much like your little guys and now I want to cry. For the record – my eldest is 4 and had a beautiful head of curls up until last week. But it just became too much. Neither my 2 year old of my 4 year old was a fan of getting their hair `fixed`before heading out in public and usually left the house all nappy headed.

    This was SO incredibly sweet. LOVE.

  5. He’s such a darling! I believe it happens to all parents that sometimes, we want them kids to grow at a slower pace so that we can enjoy their darnest acts 😉

  6. I feel the exact. same. way. about my 3 year old. (But you said it better than I ever could) That I want to stop time and have him just like this forever. But then again, I felt tihs when he was 1 and then again when he was 2, so there’s hope for us….

  7. Aw. 🙂 Shoot, I wouldn’t cut his hair either – it’s too cute! Loved your letter, and someday, he will too.

  8. the “under damp” … yes! perfect. like slightly melted frosting. the deliciousness. I suppose someone has done some kind of study on why all the metaphors about loving our kids seem to arise out of food/eating…Freud would have a field day, I guess, but whatever. This post is also delicious. And he’ll never even notice the hair – my youngest had chestnut ringles to DIE for and I kept those curls until he was…er…well old enough that he could say with great indignation I NOT A GURL.
    oops.

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