Dear Auggie, I just put you to bed without dinner. It's been a long time since I've had to do that. You were busting up into tiny pieces. Howling at the moon, except the sun was just starting to sag below the mountains. Your fangs were foaming and beastly hair started to grow from your ears.
But it's all my fault. So, I wanted to write this quick note to apologize to you.
I'm sorry I was trying to be cool on Friday afternoon.
Who wouldn't think their mom is the BOMB for setting up the family tent in the back yard?
How was I supposed to know that your peaceful moment of building Lego cars in the tent,
your moment of after school bonding with your brother,
your afternoon in the sun with your botty,
would turn into a long hour or two of naked wrestling?
And Okay, I'm sorry I set the tent up on a slight incline so that I had to interrupt your deep sleep to drag you, on occasion, back up to the top- where your pillow waited your return.
And I'm sorry that Pop Pop and Gramma wanted to come see you play T-ball Saturday morning, where they witnessed you hit and run around the bases every time you were up at bat, without once ever being thrown out.
And I'm sorry that you had to eat one hot dog and one hamburger at lunch and then swim all afternoon until you had to get out to eat three homemade chocolate chip cookies; and then I'm sorry Pop-Pop gave you a gold one dollar coin to spend at the bake sale at your sister's Minor Key concert, where you purchased one bag of red gummy fish and two individually wrapped Twizzlers. I'm sorry you had to sit and listen to the same songs you hear your sister sing every single day. But yesterday, we had music attached.
And then I'm sorry we had to say good-bye to Grandma and Pop-pop because we had to get to Mud's before the sun went down. And I'm sorry you ran around all night long pointing a Nerf gun in everyone's face and taking laps in the pond in a canoe paddled by your father, as the sun set behind us.
And I'm sorry that you got a chance to sleep again in the tent with the sounds of the coydogs and 'who cooks for you' owls concocting the mood of your dreams.
And I'm sorry you got to go down to the country store with Daddy in the morning to pick out a donut or two- I know you had a chocolate one because I licked off the frosting when I finally got to see your smiling face. I'm sorry you got to go up and down the stairs about a hundrid times to fly your paper airplane off of Daddy's balcony.
And then I'm sorry you had another four hour playdate with Tanner. I heard you spent the whole day in the pond with the mating frogs and that you ate a bologna sandwich. And probably shot the Nerf gun again.
And I'm sorry you had to do this before we left Mud's house:
And then I'm sorry we made you ride your bike, when it's really one fingernail too big, down on Gillett Pond Road, up and down the hills, with brakes that aren't in the pedals any more.
I apologize for all that fun, and obnoxiously unhealthy food, and over-exhaustion and I realize your outbursts tonight were my fault and not yours- that I combed your werewolf whiskers and sharpened those fangs.
I know you didn't fall asleep thinking that I'm the coolest Mom on the hill, but maybe the next day, or the day after that, you'll wake up and see that yea, Dad's got a cute ass, but I can pitch a six-person tent like a pro and make the best chocolate chip cookies this side of the Mississippi. Someday.
I love you tons,
p.s. don't worry about the homework we didn't get to. Daddy will help you with it tomorrow night.