N loves to write. He writes numbers and his name all day all over everything. Seriously everything. Always a pretty well-behaved kid, but I did have to explain that we don’t write our names on our bedroom doors in red ink. I honestly do not think that he was being naughty, he just had the urge to use his newfound talent on EVERYTHING. I have entire reams of paper with his name and numbers on them- I feel like saying “I am the Lorax and I speak for the TREES…” and then remind myself that this is a short-lived phase, and we buy recycled paper sometimes.
Not only does N love to write, he also loves to dictate. I have another pile of papers that he has dictated to me what to write. Word for word, how big my print should be, whether I should write normally or if I should switch it up and go right to left, like Arabic but English. These papers are priceless, and someday he will probably kill me for keeping them.
One is to God. Along the lines of “Dear God, I am sorry for being mean to G. I love her and like her and shouldn’t hit her. Telling you is like telling everyone. Thanks-N.”
Another to my Mema and Pepa’s doggie Lucky. Lucky is the coolest dog ever, total mutt and smarter than some people I know. N and Lucky truly hit it off, two peas in a pod, so we have to write to Lucky now. This one that I need to mail says “LuckyyouareluckyoneluckydogyouareLucky.Love,N”.
Yet another to my dead cat Sammy. Anyone who knows me knows that I had Sammy from eighteen on, so he was with me my entire adult life. That cat drove me NUTS but I loved him more than I ever let on. N loved him too, which was funny since he was allergic to him. We had to put him down this summer at the age of fifteen-ish, and it was traumatic for both of the kids and me. Not so much to Drew, as I am sure he would admit that he is so not a cat person. Anyway, N has been stuck on the whole Sammy in heaven thing, so we had to write a letter to Sammy. “To Sammy From N
I like you Sammy and I love you
very much and I am sorry that I
kind of freaked you out sometimes
and you didn’t like it. love, N
I like to think that Sammy is in heaven and that he gets that message somehow.
N’s newest thing is a clipboard of mine. He cut yet more paper, put it on, and proceeded to need lots of information written down. All of our names, addresses, phone numbers, ages, wish lists, first born… Once my interview was complete and I had filled a page, he went on to Drew. N asked him to write “I was adopted by Grammy and Gramps.”
What?!? First of all, how does the kid know the word ’adopted’? Second, Drew wasn’t adopted, so what is that about? He finally got by with “I was a kid with Grammy and Gramps.” Easier not to ask sometimes, I think!
Grammy and Gramps didn’t get off scot-free. They had to write all of their pertinent data, probably including credit card numbers and maiden names, and put it on scrolls that went into a large empty wine bottle. So now my five-year-old has a big old wine bottle in his room, red loopy letters on his bedroom door, and a stack of paper so high. What a trip this child is, this child of mine!