Letter to my son

Dear Smallest Child 'o' Mine,

Right now you are sleeping- and that is a good thing for many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that you were nearly auctioned off on eBay. I toyed with the thought, but after realizing that no one would buy you in the state you had been in- that I would have had to pay THEM to take you- I walked away from the virtual auction house.

Today -at only 4 months old- you gave me a glimpse of your teenage years. Your insatiable appetite, your refusal to sleep, your constant cries in response to my pleading...

There's a chance I may revisit the eBay idea at a later date, but if that doesn't pan out, I might post you on Craigslist... or possibly FreeCycle.

You're 4 months old. It boggles my mind as to what you could POSSIBLY have to complain about. You weren't wet. You were constantly eating, so hunger was out of the question. I gave you the option of choosing what you wanted to wear today, but you stared at me blankly, so if the problem was your outfit, well, that's purely on you. You cried when I held you; you cried when I put you down. You cried when I talked to you; you cried when I sang to you- though, I don't blame you there. Vocally blessed, I am not.

My sweet, precious 4 month old- do you realize how close you came to being a sweet, precious 4 month old in a basket on someone else's doorstep today? The basket was negotiable- a laundry basket would have worked. Heck, you can't crawl- I thought about just setting you there, like a crying, little lump of wet clay. That when I passed by those doorstep's that held 'Welcome' mats, I looked at them as beacons of hope, beckoning me to leave my worries at their doorstep.

You -my love, my light- YOU are the reason why some animals eat their young. I can only imagine that the decision making process goes a little something like this:

“Aw, honey- our cubs are adorable! See that one? See how quiet she is? She's a thinker- we won't ever have to worry about HER getting picked off by a hunter.”

“What about that rowdy one?”

“Oh, he's a fighter! He's going to be a great leader of our pride one day!”

“And that one? The one that won't stop crying?”

“He's lunch.”

I'm not saying I'm thinking of eating you- that's horrible and wrong.

I WILL however be bookmarking eBay.

Love,

Mom