Friday, March 30, 2012

Dear Donut

Dear Donut,

First of all, let's clear one thing up. We didn't mean to name you after a sugary confection associated with negligent law enforcement officials. But when the insurance company spelled your name as Dunkin, well, some things can't be undone. It seems pretty harmless for now, this nickname, especially since my own actual name is enough to make even the people at TSA chuckle on the job. Please don't struggle with childhood obesity. I'll blame myself.

Last night I left you at home to have a visit with Anne Lamott. I can't figure out the chemistry behind it (mostly because chemistry...blech), but after a few hours away my body is physically achy, like I forgot to take some medicine or something. But it's just missing you. I really do put the mother in smother, don't I? Luckily you still don't know the difference. Anyway, Annie and I had a lovely visit, along with five hundred other fans, and she reminded all of us a few things I'd like to think are gospel truth. Listening to her was worth being achy, and that's saying a lot, Donut.

If it's not your problem, you probably don't have the solution, she told us. And how do we ever know what's really our problem? Pay attention to what's inside your own hula hoop, she said. I know I'm going to want to keep you in my hula hoop for as long as possible, and if I joined the Y again, we could probably fit inside it even longer. But maybe the most terrifying and important thing I heard last night was that my whole job is to help you want to leave me. ACHE. ACHE. ACHE. That's my job! ACHE! To push you out of my hula hoop and help you see when your own begins and ends.

Right now you are chewing on at least eight fingers at once, and it must be pretty delectable because you aren't messing around with it. Your onesie is unsnapped and halfway up your chubby, bottle-fed belly, and you have Don Draper hair. Tonight I'm going to sing you the song about all the donuts in the world (to the tune of Jesus Loves the Little Children), and since we have already established you are a jelly-filled donut, I'll tell you that's my favorite kind of donut.

I sure do love you, kid. Have I mentioned I love you?

Mom

PS- Forgot to tell you that we learned you are genius on Wednesday. Took you in for a hearing study at the U, the first of three hour-long appointments. They kicked us out of the fancy sound booth in fifteen minutes and told me you set a WORLD RECORD (for infant hearing studies at this particular sound booth). You aced that hearing test and they canceled all the other visits, because you literally did a three hour test in fifteen minutes. Keep it up, that's how we'll pay for college.

4 comments:

The Ingrams said...

Sniffle, sniffle. We sure have a tough job, don't we?

This is the best post ever. I love you guys!!

Maryann said...

This post made my night! I love your writing to DEATH. And donut too.

DH Stitches said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
DH Stitches said...

Oh my gosh, you never fail to crack me up. And even though you left my hula hoop far far behind, I'm so glad you're happy and I wouldn't change a thing. Unless they could build an airport near Bladen. I might change that. Cuz I'm really needin' me a jelly-filled Donut.