I'm not exactly into writing open letters to people I share a house with. If I have a thing to say to my people, I say it.
*I am probably a little too comfortable with that, actually. But then again, ours is a spicy family.
If I have something tender and precious to say to my children, I write it in the journals I started for each of them long before they came into our family. These things are neither sweet nor precious but they are true, and beg to be recorded.
There are many things about Sweet Love which are unforfreakinggettable. She's adorable, for one. Strong willed, stubborn, curious, intelligent, all out bad, the one who has rewritten all the rules, whatever. She is the reigning queen of random destruction. She is the child we should have had when we were young and fresh.
But my Sweet Love, she is one in a million.
Sometimes I catch glimpses of my girls as grown up Wilson ladies and I get this urge to tell their future selves straight up just exactly what is in my unfiltered heart in that very moment. To Sweet Love, mostly I think I want to tell her how her relentless antics make me want to drink and cuss. A lot. But then I'm glad that there will be a 15 or 20 year buffer on what I currently think and the opportunity I'll have to say it.
I think when I look back on Sweet Love's first years, I will remember what I like so much about her, even if she makes us crazy with all her unreasonableness. I like how she calls my every bluff..such as that time she screamed for coffee and I gave her a whole bean, thinking that would do the trick. She crunched it down to little flaky bits, grinned like a Cheshire cat, and asked for another.
I like that she truly refuses to take "no" for an answer. We tell her not to throw a rock, she looks right at us, grins, and throws two whole handfuls of them. At our heads. The Captain tells her she has to sleep in her own bed, but she just hides behind the door frames until we turn our backs and then she takes off running across the house to our room like a wee little nighttime ninja.
And crazy as it sounds, I suppose I do appreciate the disproportionate number of Scary Events she has blasted through in her two insane years. Swallowing foreign object and substances, choking on food she refuses to chew, falling off of things, dropping and shattering a variety of items, barely avoiding the maiming of her extremities...yet she remains wondrously, and I might even go so far as to say supernaturally, unscathed. Honest to goodness, Sweet Love makes me believe in guardian angels because the Lord God Almighty must have assigned a whole fleet of them to her...and I bet you anything she gives them heart palpitations, too. The experts in our life (like teachers and pediatricians and friends and Poison Control Jean, who by now is basically an honorary member of the family) tell me she's just really smart and she has big risks to take in life and all that. And if that's so, I like that she was just on track for the life meant for her...even way back when she was two.