Dear Mom and Dad, by Avery Howe

I thought I should speak up since my mom and dad have already made a habit of speaking for me, and well…I have things to say too…mostly to them. So here it goes.

First of all, Mom, I’d like to talk to you about this routine you have me on. I am so confused. You seem upset when I wake up in the middle of the night, or too early in my nap. I interpret this as you wanting me to sleep, but then, if I fall asleep after you feed me (love the feeding by the way, keep it coming), you guys go nuts putting toys in my face and holding me up, trying to revive me from my sweet, sweet slumber. Take the hint: If I am comatose and can’t hold my head up or open my eyes, I’m tired. Let me sleep! I thought that was what you wanted! You two are impossible to please.

And about my pacifier; sometimes you are practically forcing it on me while I’m perfectly content, and other times, I spend what seems like an eternity crying and yet you deprive me of it. Let me make this easy for you…I am destined to be addicted to my pacifier. Nothing you can do can change this. Think I may learn to self-soothe if you let me cry? Not so much. I want the pacifier…I neeeeed the pacifier. I may even demand it on my first day of kindergarten. I think you knew this the first night the nurse came in and told you I would either nurse all night long, or you should try giving me a pacifier. So just give in and GIVE ME THE PACIFIER. Mom gets her nightly Lortab, I get my pacifier. Everyone needs a vice. (Oh and by the way, even though you have thirty of them, I only like the one from the hospital that you can’t buy anywhere else. Sorry, that’s just how I roll.)

Second, please pick a name for my pacifier and use it consistently. Dad, you call it a soother, Mom, you go between paci (pronounced “pass-eee”)and “binkie.” I personally prefer pacifier, or if you must abbreviate, paci. “Binkie” is so…childish. Seriously, consider your developmental goals for me before you pick out nicnames like that.

And speaking of nicnames…seriously Mom, monkey? Fine, go ahead, but start setting aside money for the counseling I will require to reverse the serious self-image damage being done. I know it started out as “munchkin” and monkey just kinda rolled off your tongue, but you might want to reconsider. And Dad, do you have to call me Bubby? Let me remind you that although I was in utero, I DID hear you calling someone else Bubby for the last 9 months, and I don’t appreciate sharing my nicname with that four-legged hairy thing that always wants to smell me.

Glad we had this talk.

Oh, and PS – you can bathe me all you want…I will still spit up immediately after you put me down for my next nap, saturating my clean hair with spit up and covering up the soap smell with my favorite smell…milk that sat in my belly for an hour before I regurgitated it.

Advertisement