Dear Luke,
You've taken to requesting that you and your dad play percussion instruments while singing your nightly songs. Specifically: you play the egg, and your dad must play either the conga or that little ridged thingie with a stick, sort of, that sounds like, RRRRREEEEE-eee-eeee, RRRREEEEE-ee-eeee! (I have no idea what that's called, but by the time you can read this you probably will. And you'll be mortified at how lame your mama is.)
Anyway, it's nothing short of joy on a stick to hear the two of you up there, playing your respective instruments as you shout, SPIDER-MAN! SPIDER-MAN! DOES WHATEVER A SPIDER CAN!
Thanks, kiddo. You make every single day brighter. Even when you're driving me crazy and even when I get upset and yell, you make every day brighter and I adore you with more than I knew my heart could hold.
Your Mama
Monday, January 26, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Letter Eleven
Dear Luke,
Here are a few of the things you say and do lately.
a) You wrote a song on your conga drum, aided by a piece of a different instrument that you are using as a drumstick. It goes thusly, and it's spoken/sung with a LOT of snarly sort of attitude. It's... well. It's almost a punk song.
You could run really fast/Or, if you wanna read a book/Then read a book NOW!
At the end, you throw the "drumstick" on the drum with a great theatrical flair.
b) You say ruefully that you wish I could be in various bands, like The New Pornographers and The Arcade Fire, because "you would have a lot of fun, Mama."
c) You ask to call your Mimi so that you can speak with her in Spanish. You then instruct me to speak with her in Spanish, ostensibly so that you can listen to my end of the conversation. Actually you've become a bit hung up lately on whether or not people speak Spanish. You ask everyone, and if they say no, you teach them a word or two. Then you say to them, very encouragingly, ¡Sí! ¡Muy bien!
I remembered the other day that you used to say waddy for fish. Waddy! We never did figure out why.
Boy, you are painfully cute, so smart, so kind. I adore you.
Your Mama
Here are a few of the things you say and do lately.
a) You wrote a song on your conga drum, aided by a piece of a different instrument that you are using as a drumstick. It goes thusly, and it's spoken/sung with a LOT of snarly sort of attitude. It's... well. It's almost a punk song.
You could run really fast/Or, if you wanna read a book/Then read a book NOW!
At the end, you throw the "drumstick" on the drum with a great theatrical flair.
b) You say ruefully that you wish I could be in various bands, like The New Pornographers and The Arcade Fire, because "you would have a lot of fun, Mama."
c) You ask to call your Mimi so that you can speak with her in Spanish. You then instruct me to speak with her in Spanish, ostensibly so that you can listen to my end of the conversation. Actually you've become a bit hung up lately on whether or not people speak Spanish. You ask everyone, and if they say no, you teach them a word or two. Then you say to them, very encouragingly, ¡Sí! ¡Muy bien!
I remembered the other day that you used to say waddy for fish. Waddy! We never did figure out why.
Boy, you are painfully cute, so smart, so kind. I adore you.
Your Mama
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