Notes You Hope Never To Have To Write

In deference to Gabby's future social life, I won't reveal whether any of these are based on real incidents:



Dear [close friend with child near Gabby's age],



It was so lovely having you and [child] over for a playdate. I am terribly sorry my daughter pooped in the bathtub while our children were bathing together. I guess the last ten blackberries were kind of a bad idea. I hope this little incident will not interfere with our daughters' friendship, or ours.



Apologetically yours,

Binky





Dear [happily childless friend],



Thank you for attempting to take me out to dinner for my birthday. Bummer that we got thrown out of the restaurant. I honestly had no idea Gabby could throw that far, or that forcefully.



Next one's on me.



Love always,

Binky





Dear [Director of exclusive preschool]:



I am writing because we have not heard back from you on the status of our application. I was wondering if it would be possible to schedule a follow-up interview. We would very much like the opportunity to demonstrate that the unfortunate biting debacle was an isolated incident.



Very truly yours,

Mrs. Binky



Dear Local Public Library:



I am terribly sorry that we returned a library book minus Elmo's lower half. I have enclosed a check to cover the fine, plus a small donation in the hopes that someday we may regain our library privileges.



Earnestly yours,

Binky



Dear Local Parks Department:



Sorry about the whole sand thing. Won't happen again.



Sheepishly,

Binky



Dear Neighbors,



I agree -- it is unfortunate that sounds carries so well between floors. I'm sure you realize that your cat yowls just as much as our toddler. How 'bout I bake you a pie and we'll call it a draw?



Cordially,

Binky upstairs


Dear Crayola Company:

I am writing to complain about what I believe is an instance of false advertising by your company. By calling your crayons "washable," you imply that crayon marks may be washed off any surface. Extensive, um, shall we say field testing? has revealed that such is not the case.

Sincerely,
A concerned customer

*****

Gabby has begun her twentieth month of life and I have passed the twenty week mark in this pregnancy. It seems like a nice point to sit back and assess.
The pregnancy part is quite a bit better. I still feel like I'm swimming through Jell-O much of the time, but that may have more to do with the cold/cough I've had for two months than the pregnancy itself. The nausea has finally abated (thank the pharmaceutical gods for that) and my mood is considerably brighter (ditto). I am now CLEARLY identifiable as preggo and not just chubby, and I've even had people offer me seats on the bus. There's even a silver lining to the constant congestion -- it hampers my super spidey smell superpower, so bus rides and trips to public restrooms aren't quite as gross as they could be.

And Gabby continues to take the world by storm. She's big into puzzles right now, and can actually put the pieces back in instead of just taking them out and scattering them around the room. She's a huge Sesame Street fan, and every morning she drags us out of bed, saying "Cookie? Cookie?" She doesn't want a cookie -- she wants to hear Cookie Monster and boogie to the Sesame Street theme song.

She's putting sentences together, too:

"Daddy gave me watermelon!"

When asked why she threw her apple on the floor, she responded, "I don't want the apple."

And my absolute favorite: "I love you, mommy."