Another Love Letter

Dear Cameron My Love,

We had a pretty good day today. You played so independently, letting me clean and tidy so I could relax and really play with you when that was done. You helped me too – watching you with your squirtbottle of vinegar and water, running around cleaning things diligently, was wonderful. You did great with Auntie Val and Uncle Ron visiting, warming up to them very quickly despite not having seen them since Christmas. They loved seeing you bounce on the trampoline, toss zoo animals around the livingroom, and we all laughed when you wanted us each to join you in balancing the animals on our heads.

Sadly, at one point today you peed on Blanket. Sometimes things happen this way. Your blanket just won’t be ready for you to snuggle with it tonight despite my best efforts. I chalk it up to your refusing to go to the back yard so I could do laundry and you’re still too young yet for me to leave you alone in the apartment.

I know that the bug blanket, the space shuttle blanket, and the striped blanket just don’t cut it. They lack whatever quality it is you love in your blue checked blanket. It’s my opinion that it’s way too hot for a blanket anyways. I know that you’re upset because you’re tired and you want your Blanket … and I’m sorry I was a grouch after switching blankets for you six times.

My heart ached for you just now when I went in to your room. You had obediently quieted, and you were making do with what you had. In a very little and sad voice you said, “I covered myself with blankets.” Indeed you ahd – all three substitute blankets. Your hair was soaked with sweat.

You’ll have Blanket back tomorrow. I promise. Now. Go to sleep for bleeping bleep bleep’s sake!

Love,

Mommy

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One response to “Another Love Letter

  1. Gabriella is like that too with blankets. She must have one covering her, no matter how hot she is. Lately, she has developed a fear of the fan in her room, so not only must she cover herself with a blanket, but she will NOT allow the fan to be turned on, so she’ll sweat puddles until the morning and I have to wash her soaking wet sheets and pillow. sigh. Two year olds, gotta love ’em.

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