I think my kid is more mature than I am.Posted: March 20, 2013
Mouse came home from school the other day, ran into the house, and wrote this:
Is my daughter drawing out prototypes for pantyliners with squiggles written all over them, you ask? No. The paper is, I agree, unfortunately shaped. It is actually a letter from Mouse to her preschool friend, with whom we also happen to carpool. She demanded that I get her an envelope and a stamp, so she could send it to his house.
Me: You want to send him a letter?
Mouse: Yes, because he hit me today and I want to tell him about that.
Me: Why don’t we take a picture of it on mommy’s phone, and I will send it to E’s mom?
Mouse: (panic) But mom, I just wrote scribbles on there, he won’t know what it says! (lip quiver)
(I am not sure why sending the thing snail mail would have circumvented the scribble issue.)
Me: It’s ok, I’ll translate it for you and put it in the text message.
Mouse: (relieved) Ok.
I hope you like your letter. I don’t like that you hit me today. I will be your best friend next week if you are not as mean to me again, as soon as you get your confidence back.
The return communication…
I drew you an ant. I love you and promise not to hit you or scream anymore. I hope you come home with me to a play date and we can have a play museum.
If a couple of four year olds can do it, we can too, right? Huh.