Monday, July 03, 2006

Month 29- Behold the spawn of Satan

Dear Joseph,
I would like to start this month's letter by saying I love you dearly with all my heart and what may follow should not take away from the surge of positive emotions I feel about you on a daily basis.
You have turned into, what we in Derry like to call, a wee shite. It's not that you are bad as such. You haven't killed any puppies or thrown anyone out of a window (with the exception of your Tigger glove puppet)- you have just become, how can I put this, trying.
You have discovered the joy of tantrums and, much to my 'joy', the ability to do the full body slump whereby you collapse into a gelatenous heap on the floor and wriggle about so that even the most wily of mammies/ childminders/ daddies can't lift you up as you screech and shout "Me no want to".
I should, I guess, applaud your stand for your rights but when you take that stand in Tesco, while people tut and look on, it can be hard to deal with.
You have also discovered the 'excitement' which can be created by you running off in crowded shopping centres sending your mammy/childminder/daddy into a frenzy of panic as we search for you all the time imagining the worst.
And, you have also discovered just how much 'fun' it is draw blood from your own mother while you sink you teeth into her boob while giving her cuddle.

That's not to say you aren't a joy. You make me roar with laughter each day. Just yesterday you sang "Don't you wish your mammy was fun like me, don't you, don't you" in the car and I almost choked. You tell me I'm "so handsome" on an almost daily basis now and you love me, entirely and totally.
And I do love you back baby boy. But, if you can help it all, please stop with the mammy abuse.
Love you squillions.

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