Dear Children (My Children, Specifically):
In a mere four days time, two of you will be turning two years old.
This. Cannot be allowed to happen.
I don’t know what you think you’re doing, growing up and getting bigger. But it must stop. Before you up and become teenagers and you waking me at 2a.m. means suspicion over what you’ve been doing all night and not an extra snuggle like it does now.
I know it’s coming someday. So let’s do what we can to delay, OK? Let’s stick with the littleness and the cuteness, I’ll even take the snotty noses (which we seem to have an abundant supply of lately), if you’ll just stay small for as long as possible.
It’s already too late for you, 4-year-old. Someone at the KCYF* was slacking this year. Your birthday came and went and Boom! My son is officially older. I suppose whoever was in charge of keeping you small thought it was a holiday or something. But I still think it being Christmas Eve was no excuse for letting you grow up. I remember wondering what Christmas dinner in the maternity ward would taste like and now you’re asking me questions like, “Why does Santa pack the toys in boxes?” or “Why do airplanes have a propeller on the front, but helicopters have one on the top?” or “Where does poo-poo come from?” See the problem here? You’re too smart for me already! Think about it, if you’re asking me these questions now, the day where I no longer have all the answers is coming sooner than I thought. (Although, *fist bumps Google*)
I love you all very dearly, so I hope you will forgive my antics. I’m going to try everything. Heavy books stacked on your head so you can’t grow taller. Coffee-spiked milk (“What? It’s chocolate. Just drink it. Yum!”), it stunts your growth, you know. Bribery–you want a cookie, don’t you? Only if you don’t grow up! Multiple screenings of Peter Pan, he’s a fabulous role model. And if all that fails, I’m still on the hunt for a personal genie or wizard or something and he or she will do my bidding.
Now that I’ve explained all this, I thank you in advance for your cooperation. You understand.
*KCYF = Keeping Children Young Forever. Kind of like the CIA: They’d tell you, but they’d have to kill you.