Thursday, August 16, 2012
Dear Grown Up Jordan,
Right now you are 14.
You are funny,
you are bright,
and you are way taller than me.
You make this house a fun place to be.
You also make it noisy.
You particularly, of late, seem to enjoy wrestling excessively with your younger brothers
how shall I say this nicely...
this isn't working for me.
I know you think I'm a big kill joy when I ask you to stop hanging your brothers by their ankles and pretending you are going to drop them down the stairs at 8pm.
I know you don't realize that this causes huge rushes of adrenaline to course through their veins.
I know you don't know this instinctively activates their fight or flight response.
I know they enjoy this.
I know you enjoy this.
However none of this is conducive to me trying to get 5 little boys to bed.
Help me Jordan.
I know I probably sound like a grumpy ole woman who won't let anyone have any fun at that time of day but dude...
your killin me.
So this is my letter to you.
I hope you'll read it one day when you too are in your mid-30's surrounded by children who won't go to sleep.
And then I hope you'll call me...
and tell me I was right.
I'm here bud,
patiently waiting by the phone.
All my love,
posted at 11:17 AM