The Things I Want to Remember: For Monkey

Dear Monkey,

There are things right now that I'm sure I would be just fine forgetting. The fact that you have become such a picky eater. That your default mood is whiny. That you still have a hard time sleeping in your bed.

But there are so many more things that I want to remember. I keep forgetting to write them down. I know that the memories are slipping through the cracks of the busy schedule faster than I can gather them back up in the quiet of the night.

I want to remember how you insist on having a straw with every single thing that you drink. Whether it is your after-school strawberry milk, or breakfast orange juice, or water with dinner, you much have a straw.

I want to remember how you tromp after your Daddy to the woodpile in the cold winter evenings. It doesn't matter how cold it is, or if you are already in your pajamas, if Dad is going to get wood, you are doing with him, stomping over the hard ground in your boots, holding the lantern.

I want to remember how much you love animals. Each library trip finds our book bag filled with books about platypuses, armadillos, frogs, insects, chameleons. You say that you are going to grow up and be a zookeeper.

I want to remember your wild imagination. After studying the 5 senses at school, you were asked to draw items that you would like to touch and items you would not like to touch. Under your "like to touch" box, you drew "fake insects, nice snakes, and grass." Under your "don't want to touch" box, you drew "real insects and poisonous lollipops."


I want to remember all the funny things you say:
-While learning state names: "What do they have in New Hamster? A lot of hamsters or something?"
-Getting ready for bed: "Daddy, I really love you, but I NEED A DRINK!"

I want to remember how you shout playfully that you don't want me to go to work, hanging on my leg and hollering that you won't let go and that I can't leave.

I want to remember how you snuggle up to me on couch while we read, lifting my arm up so that you can get even closer. How you ask for a blanket so that we can be warm while we snuggle. How you fall asleep under my arm, your head heavy with dreams. How I carry you to bed, along with an entourage of stuffed animals.

I want to remember all this. I want you to remember all this.


Love,
Mom