Dear Little Bunny,
as the Writer of this blog which will One Day hopefully adequately serve as a "baby book" since you came along too quickly after your brothers to garner an actually handwritten book of your own, and since the sweetness of childhood memories require that the adorable memories be juxtaposed with the mischievous ones, you should know that what you are about to read is completely true.
Picture this: A rainy Saturday at the end of a full week of rainy days. Playdate at a friend's house with your brothers and your Mommy. The host is the 6 year-old best friend of your brother Doodlebug's and the house the most impressive, most lovely of maybe any that this Writer has ever been inside of. Beautiful things everywhere you look: pale sky blues, creamy dreamy yellows, crystal tchotchkes, canvas watercolors, white couches and carpets, authentically rose-scented rooms centered around dozens of actual fresh-cut greenhouse-grown roses. And then.........a CRASH, distinctly glassy. Running to investigate we see two little heads peering down from the vintage polished banister overhead down onto the scene below that the Mommys stumble gingerly upon - glass, sparkles and water trickling down the wide cherry coffee table and onto the thick Oriental carpet below. A collectible snow globe had SOMEHOW been pitched (with force? to test gravity? just because?) through the twisted iron banister bars to whatever lay below which in this case was a glass-topped coffee table, the glass having been custom-cut years before "around the time (their) kids were born" which means it has survived 6 1/2 years with their kids but only about 3 playdates with mine.
The two heads peering down from overhead? Little Bunny and the tiny 4 year-old hostess, sister to Doodle's best friend, nervous and indignantly proclaiming her innocence and quickly scampering off to find and present her own whole, un-shattered snow globe as further proof of her righteousness. Little Bunny stood with head through the iron bars, looking like a rightly-imprisoned jailbird shouting "Me!Me!Me!" and pointing his chubby finger to his own pudgy chest proudly incriminating himself.
Needless to say, there was alot of apologizing, sopping up of water, carefully picking glass bits off the rugs. And shortly thereafter we left. Our hosts were incredibly gracious - embarrassed for us, sweetly shooing away talk of replacement glass and amends-making, generously offering lunch and forgiveness instead but this Writer's pride and nerves just could not accept anymore sympathetic kindness right then. Home we went through the rain and dense noonday fog to peanut butter cracker sandwiches and strawberries and naptimes during which this Writer promptly had flowers ordered and delivered to the morning's victims of LB's crimes of snow-globe-tossing-treachery.
All that to say: it is only your kid who you can love so completely, so fully, so immensely even when such things as these occur. Even our Golden Pony Pup gets more hollering when he is destructive and he's younger and a dog. But my sweet, blond unexpected joy? You are very nearly perfect to me. Your faults, mistakes and wrong choices familiar and logical to my eyes, your kindnesses and loving gifts of smiles, jokes and hugs are commended and rewarded maybe disproportionately.It's a mystery of parenting that probably One Day will fade when you are dating and driving and looking to break rules far more weighty than Do Not Throw Toys. But for now, you are perfect. Almost.
~Also: while "skating" on a pair of toy cars the same morning at home, my Little Bunny busted face-first on the hardwood floors and earned a huge fat lip. Popsicles helped. Pictures to follow.~