Paloma,
Today you are thirty three months old.
•
Today I thought I'd write you a letter about Puppy; the puppy you carry with you at (almost) all times.
Early this morning you came into my room in tears because when you woke up to come in my room, you could not find Puppy. Puppy is very important to you.
When you were younger and it was "time" to attach you to "something" I thought that was a dumb idea and didn't bother. I figured A) you should attach to a HUMAN, not an object and B) you'd figure out which object to attach to, if you wanted to.
You have chosen Puppy. He is small and white with brown markings. He came from the drugstore. He cost about a dollar.
I bought Puppy when you got your second ear infection back before you turned two and I felt terrible. Terrible you were sick again and terrible you'd have to take a round of antibiotics and probiotics to match.
I was picking up your prescription and while I waited I wandered around looking for something to bring you to cheer you up. This time around you were old enough to know you were sick and I thought it would be a nice gesture to bring you something fun with something yucky. I found Puppy in the toy aisle and figured that would do the trick.
And it did.
You didn't attach right away, but gradually Puppy became "a thing" and we began searching for him before leaving the house, before going to bed, before all sorts of things.
"Where is Puppy?" is a very common question heard around here.
And that's the question you uttered as we were about to leave Target one night this month. "Oh, SHIT," was all I could think. I had no idea where Puppy was, but he was somewhere in that giant store. We retraced our steps, looking for Puppy, and I was a mess. I didn't know if we'd find him. I didn't know what would happen if we didn't find him. But I knew I was a lot more upset about it than you would probably ever be.
We found him, so we'll not know. Not yet. Hopefully not ever.
As attached as you are to me, and your family, I'm glad you have Puppy. He's a good dog.
•
Happy Thirty third Monthday.
Love,
Mama
Today you are thirty three months old.
•
Today I thought I'd write you a letter about Puppy; the puppy you carry with you at (almost) all times.
Early this morning you came into my room in tears because when you woke up to come in my room, you could not find Puppy. Puppy is very important to you.
When you were younger and it was "time" to attach you to "something" I thought that was a dumb idea and didn't bother. I figured A) you should attach to a HUMAN, not an object and B) you'd figure out which object to attach to, if you wanted to.
You have chosen Puppy. He is small and white with brown markings. He came from the drugstore. He cost about a dollar.
I bought Puppy when you got your second ear infection back before you turned two and I felt terrible. Terrible you were sick again and terrible you'd have to take a round of antibiotics and probiotics to match.
I was picking up your prescription and while I waited I wandered around looking for something to bring you to cheer you up. This time around you were old enough to know you were sick and I thought it would be a nice gesture to bring you something fun with something yucky. I found Puppy in the toy aisle and figured that would do the trick.
And it did.
You didn't attach right away, but gradually Puppy became "a thing" and we began searching for him before leaving the house, before going to bed, before all sorts of things.
"Where is Puppy?" is a very common question heard around here.
And that's the question you uttered as we were about to leave Target one night this month. "Oh, SHIT," was all I could think. I had no idea where Puppy was, but he was somewhere in that giant store. We retraced our steps, looking for Puppy, and I was a mess. I didn't know if we'd find him. I didn't know what would happen if we didn't find him. But I knew I was a lot more upset about it than you would probably ever be.
We found him, so we'll not know. Not yet. Hopefully not ever.
As attached as you are to me, and your family, I'm glad you have Puppy. He's a good dog.
•
Happy Thirty third Monthday.
Love,
Mama
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