Dare I say anything positive about you or your behavior/”life choices” lately? For surely I will wake from this dream.
Lately, you have been so… what’s the word? Pleasant... enjoyable... sane? Obedient, cooperative, even-tempered are other words that come to mind.
- You will no longer hit.
- You will not throw things.
- You are going to be “good” now.
I was glad to hear these things. Though, I’m mentally tallying the number of times you’ve thrown things at your sister in the past twenty-four hours. But, hey, we’ve all gotta start somewhere! #goals
In less than six weeks, we’re going to add another muffin to our basket. And I’m planning for the worst, but hoping for the best. I worry that you will regress from your newfound maturity. You’ll be back to monster fears and wanting to sleep in our bed. Back to hitting and throwing things at my head while I’m driving. Back to your feigned helplessness when it’s time to put shoes on or get out the door with any urgency. And it will all be compounded by the fact that it won’t be possible for you to sleep in our bed or for me to help you get dressed before school.
On the other hand, I can envision how having a younger brother will bring out the best in you. You’ve been excited since the day we told you: “I’m going to be a big sister. No. Wait. I AM a big sister.” You talk to the baby through my tummy. And kiss and hug him goodbye.
You have a lot of opinions and theories about this new person: “Stevie is going to be bad. He’s going to hit. And I have to show him not to.”
I’ve asked you if you think you might have trouble sharing me with Stevie and have tried to prepare you for the fact that I won’t always be able to help you immediately if I’m busy with the baby. You say you can handle it. But, I wonder when I still end up helping you get dressed every morning. And I crawled into bed with you just the other night when you couldn’t fall asleep.
I guess this letter to you is less about you right now and more about my ability (or guilt about not being able) to care for you like I have. You were my [spoiled] baby for six years.
Our relationship is undoubtedly going to change. And I can’t say what that will look like. I just repeat my sibling mantra, the one I always tell parents with similar worries, and the one I know to be true because of my own siblings: there will be tough days and growing pains, but you will all be better for knowing and having each other. Most importantly, you will have yet another person to share the responsibility of taking care of me when I’m old, to make fun of me with at family dinners and to help you decide what to do with my crap when I die.
Enough about me, more about you at six-years-old:
- You are obsessed with Hamilton: an American Musical and can sing/rap every word, including the curse ones.
- In following, you are a huge fan of Lin-Manuel Miranda (LMM as we call him) and you are also learning the words to his first musical In the Heights.
- You are considering writing your own musical and you direct and choreograph your dolls and toys as Hamilton plays in the background.
- You love soccer and own it as mid-field defender. You are proud of your “big foot!”
- You are a monkey bar fanatic and show me your blisters everyday after school to prove it.
- You weren’t immediately happy about Kindergarten (or waking up so early), but you are generally happy to go now. And you leave school skipping and bubbly and talkative. Homework is easy and you’re leaps and bounds above many of the students because of your year in Transitional Kindergarten (TK). So, I basically pay no attention to all those papers your teacher sends home about “continuing learning at home”--you mean letting my child listen to musicals with four letter words doesn’t count as enrichment?
- You are still loving and cuddly as ever. And I have to remind myself to soak up every bit of it before I blink and you’re a tween and you turn on me.
- You are still as particular as ever about what you wear--check out Instagram #daniellejoleestyle
- You would still prefer to subsist on meat and meat alone and the battle to feed you nutritious food is long over. Fruit snacks, Cheez-itz, cotton candy flavored yogurt, fistfulls of balogna… as long as you eat something (and avoid turning into a hangry monster), I consider it a successful day.
- Despite what I said above, you are still my baby and you will always be my baby.
- I love you no matter what.