Sorry I Peed on You (and Other Heartwarming Letters to Mommy) (3 page)

I have something amazing to show you! Look at how far I can throw my sippy cup! I can throw it from my high chair clear across the kitchen table. And if I aim perfectly, I can knock over any water glasses and ketchup bottles. And that’s with the sippy cup half full. Can you imagine the distance I’d get if I actually drank all my milk?

But I wonder why you and Daddy never throw
your
cups. I’m guessing the reason is that you just haven’t had a knowledgeable toddler explain how to do it. There are two perfect times to hurl your sippy cup. First is when people are least expecting it. Just right in the middle of a meal, pick it up and throw it on the floor, toward the dog’s head, or across the table. Second is if someone asks, “Do you need more milk?” you can answer the question with a simple chuck of the sippy cup.

With a little practice, Mommy, you’ll be able to throw your sippy cup so hard against the floor that you’ll be able to dent the hardwoods just like I can.

There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, and now that we’re in a busy supermarket full of strangers, I think it’s finally the right moment. Mommy, what’s a vagina? Last time I asked, you said, “Honey, ask me about that later,” as everyone stared at us in the doctor’s office. I’d still really like to know.

Apparently, a lot of people want to know what a vagina is, Mommy, because everyone’s looking at us, and a few are laughing. So, is this a good place to tell me what a vagina is? Do I have a vagina? Does Daddy have a vagina? What about Princess the cat? Do they sell vaginas at this store? Everyone keeps staring, so maybe we all need to know. Would you tell the entire store what a vagina is, Mommy?

Thank you for picking me up early from preschool. Something about that place was giving me a tummy ache. I don’t know what. All I had to eat today was my normal food that you packed me, plus two crayons, three ounces of Elmer’s glue, a piece of construction paper, three boogers, and an ounce of glitter. What do you think it could be? And what’s a culinary academy? The teacher says that’s what I’ve confused her class for.

Anyway, it’s great to see you. Why are you all sweaty and wearing a jog bra and running shoes? Were you doing something?

Why do I cry
every
time you leave me at the YMCA day care? Well, have you asked yourself how you’d feel if I
didn’t
cry, and played nicely as though you weren’t the center of my universe? The fact that you haven’t been able to get a workout in since I was born is a sign of love, Mommy.

I know you still want to exercise, so I have created the “never leave my sight” workout just for you! Every day, I’ll make sure you do at least ten pick-me-up-for-no-reasons, three clean-up-the-blocks-after-I-scatter-them-needlessly-about-the-house, and twenty-five ah-ah-ahhhs! which involve seeing me about to toss my food on the floor, so you run as fast as you can over to the high chair yelling, “Ah-ah-ahhh, don’t!”

One day when I’m a teenager, I’ll cry if I
can’t
leave your sight. You should appreciate the barnacle years.

Okay, maybe running away from you at the park yesterday was a bit childish. And I do regret tossing my shoe in the trash. I honestly didn’t know someone had just thrown out day-old potato salad. But what else could I do? I’m almost 20 months old, and you still won’t let me go down the slide by myself! It’s embarrassing, Mommy. That little toddler girl in pink-bowed pigtails didn’t even look at me once while we were at the park—and that’s even after I’d demonstrated supreme agility by running across the bouncy bridge. How am I ever going to get bitten or chased by a girl if she thinks I still need to slide with my mommy?

I’m ready to go down both the straight and curly slides by myself. But we can just start with the straight slide. And you can even wait at the bottom of the slide and say “Come to Mommy.” You don’t have to. But I know this might be a tough transition for you, so I’m willing to let you take baby steps.

I am so excited that you’re taking me to play in the yard! I will try to stay out of the garden and will be respectful of which balls belong to the dog and which are mine. I also have some great news! I no longer have to wear shoes while playing in the backyard. Yesterday, while you were out shopping, Daddy took me outside to play. He was about to put my jacket on but couldn’t find it, so he said, “It’s pretty warm out.” Then he asked, “Brooke, honey, where are your shoes?” He looked for about two seconds and then was like, “Forget it. It’s just grass.”

That’s why I’m wormy-squirming as you try to cram my feet into shoes. I just prefer to be barefoot—like Daddy lets me. Also, Daddy lets me eat while standing up in the kitchen. I like that, too. Next time Nana comes over, can we all eat standing in the kitchen?

You know how you’re always asking me to try new foods? I would like to return the favor and offer you a handful of a local backyard delicacy I call
dirt.

Dirt, or mud as it’s known when it’s wet, is very healthy, and it’s full of minerals—plus the occasional rock or worm. For your first serving, I recommend something from the vegetable garden, because it’s soft, and you can grab and swallow a handful before anyone yells “Oh my God, that’s gross—your baby just ate dirt!”

I don’t want you to worry about getting sick from the dirt. In fact, scientists believe eating dirt is actually an instinctual way to introduce bacteria that strengthen the immune system. And for all the colds I’ll be bringing home from preschool, Mommy, you’re gonna need all the dirt you can get.

Why is it that you won’t let the dog lick my face clean of the frosting, but when you can’t find a washcloth, you’ll lick your hand and wash me like a cat? Personally, I think I look very cute covered in cupcake. And it’s not that I have anything against your saliva. As mommies go, I’m sure you’ve got some of the best saliva around. I’m sure your spit is the envy of your moms’ club, and Windex keeps calling to see if they can tap your salivary glands and make the first-ever bottled toddler-face cleaner.