Dear Boogies, I know you don't like it when I call you that anymore but I'm sorry, you'll always be my boogies. I know, too, that you needed me last night. Like you've needed me all week to tell you my own stories of the mean girls I befriended in third grade. To validate your feelings and tears.
And I know that you wanted to help me stir that stinky cheese but I shooshed you out of the kitchen so I could talk with my wombats. And I know that you wanted to 'hang' out with us and bark orders to EAT CHEESE AND BREAD, but I banished you to your room instead.
I wanted to tell you about the time that Jennifer Johnson made me give her the pants I was wearing in the bathroom of the roller skating rink at Bridget McKenna's birthday party. And I loved those striped pants and I didn't want to give them to her but I was so afraid of her being mad at me that I did it anyway. But I still regret that I did.
And when I went in to tell you that it's finally time for you to turn out your light, you were crying and wanted to tell me what Emily said to you today and that Autumn chose Emily and not you and you needed such big hugs and I said, "Boogies, my friends are here and they're eating bread and cheese and I need to make sure there is enough of both so they don't riot." And you said, "But please stay and tell me a story." And I would have. I would have told you about the time Connie Mullen came into forth grade with friendship pins and ranked us from the top down. Her best friend got the yellow and pink and so on down the line. And I remember feeling so low on the list and so low of self esteem, like I was a car running on fumes.
I would have stayed to tell you that, but I had to pass out numbers for the Yankee Swap. And then right as you were about to drift off to sleep, I came to yell at the ladies who were in the bathroom sticking temporary tattoos to their ass cracks to hurry the hell up. But while we were waiting for them, I should have slipped in and told you about the time I wasn't invited to Nikki Bowler's birthday party because Jennifer Johnson was mad at me. And then you would have known how it is that I know how you're feeling.
But I'm glad you fell asleep and you didn't see me trying to steal waterproof vibrators and Hanky Panky underwear from the friends who have taught me what friendship is all about.
And I'm glad you didn't come out when things started to get really rowdy and a piece of wood was allocated for some pole dancing.
And that you didn't witness the doctor jumping rope with her shirt off so she could steal someone else's gift certificate.
And that you didn't view us sticking our faces in butterscotch fondue.
But maybe you should have. Seen the shenanigans. Heard the conversations. Witnessed the tears. Felt the ache in your stomach from laughing so hard.
Because you would have seen, as all good parents should model, that having friends is important.
Even the crazy clowns who some goddess of friendship has bestowed on me. You would have seen how they adore each other. And you would have fallen asleep knowing that some day you too will have women who accept you for who you are, even the hairiest parts of you.
At the end of the night, you know the time of night that I turn away from the chores and dishes and I retire into myself, I should have come in while you were breathing softly and sat by your side and told you about the day that I chose not to be friends with those mean girls. The day I was strong enough to choose me. You're going to get there sweet boogies. Just be strong.
And I'm free tonight to listen and to be a shoulder for you to lean on. But that's only after I get the dried cheese off the bottom of my sink and I try that new waterproof vibrator thingy.
I love you more than you know.
You'll always be my boogies.
p.s. Thanks Wombats for showing me and my daughter what good friends are all about.