Letters to Sia: Year Three. Her Words.

Now that I have started speaking in full sentences (my parents and I disagree on the frequency of non-vocal intervals in between), Daddy decided to write this letter in my voice. Most likely because by this time next year I shall have a full vocabulary, and would be able to deny his exaggerated claims outright. So here’s his version of my train of thought (ooh, trains!).

There may be a right hand, but there is no wrong hand. Get over it.

If you ask me to use my words, and then deny my well-worded request for a toy/snack/pick up/outing, you have thereby lost the privilege of communicating with me in words for the next 20 minutes. (It clearly says so in my being-a-toddler manual). Now prepare your brains to translate my high-frequency wailing!

I want my mommy.

What do you mean I cannot wear the pretty princess dress repeatedly every day? I do not understand the logic behind this draconian rule you just made up.

When I say there is a monster in the house, you bet your butt there is a monster in the house. Do not refute my claim until you have personally checked every square inch of my room with a flashlight, microphone, night-vision goggles, infrared camera, electromagnetic field dissonance measuring device, and a Geiger counter.

I want my mommy.

Goldfish crackers is a meal, not a snack. Stop making up silly rules to hinder my joy.

Daddy’s beard hurts. I sometimes wonder if he has enough money to shave more often.

I only asked to go to the park. You’re the idiots who decided to settle down in a wintry region. You know what, forget the park. Let’s go to California!

My grandparents live inside an iPad. One time after a frustratingly long plane ride, they popped out and turned into real people. Boy, that freaked the poop out of me!

I want my mommy.

Whenever my parents look like they are about to doze off while waiting for me to doze off, I say “I need to go to the potty!” It’s pretty hilarious to see how quickly they snap out of it.

This is a very strange world. It’s unbelievable how many women out there are not my mommy.

I like blue and my mommy, so nobody else is allowed to like blue or my mommy.

Grownups are weird. They like phones, rather than playing with toys that can actually dance or play music. You need to make a call first, people! Simply staring at the phone won’t do anything fun! Jeez, how silly.

I feel like I should say ‘I want my mommy’, because it’s been a while since the last time I said ‘I want my mommy’.

My parents, grandparents, uncles and aunties sometimes buy me presents with the most fun boxes ever!

I get to play all day long at school, and yet I sometimes don’t feel like waking up and getting ready. But Mommy and Daddy are always in a hurry to get to their office. I don’t know what that place is, but I really look forward to going there when I grow up!

Sometimes when I wake up after a nap, it’s morning. And sometimes it’s evening. You guys have no idea how confusing my world is.

Mommy and Daddy are really scared of the clock. I have no idea why. At least my fears are reasonable, like the possibility that somebody will break in and eat all the cheese in the fridge when we are not at home.

Enough about me. Is my Mommy here yet?

Letters to Sia: Year One

Happy birthday! You just completed a full circle around the sun. You are too young to understand what that means, except for the fact that you get to eat cake for the first time today.

Last year on this day you arrived with your arms outstretched, as if to grab something to keep yourself from falling. I spent the first hour of your time here admiring you. I had a camera, but didn’t take a single picture. I have no regrets.

I spent the next few days running around, but I loved our special time together as I wheeled you in and out of the nursery a few times a day to see Mom. People I met in the hallways gave me a big smile when they saw you. Papa is proud.

Today you walk, laugh, dance, say “Bye”, bite with 6 teeth, climb down from the bed and even point with your finger. How did you learn so much so soon? Let’s go get you a driver’s license tomorrow.

Judging by the way I always hovered around you, my friends called me possessive and over-protective. I prefer the term ‘unapologetically attached’. They tease me sometimes: “What if Sia wants to wear mini-skirts when she grows up?” I tell them I’ll be completely fine with it. I’ll even come shopping with you and not whine one bit. I just have one word for you though: underwear.

You want Mommy all the time now: in the middle of the night, when you wake up in the morning, when you come home from daycare, and even when I’m right next to you. That’s okay. One day you’ll learn to appreciate the richness of chocolate and the thrill of amusement park rides. And I’ll be ready with a big, fat credit card.

This past year I made you wait for hours in a dirty diaper, walked you around busy streets on a hot day, tied you up in your car seat for God knows how long, sent you to a mean nanny, and took you into filthy, stinking subway elevators in New York. But you always let it pass and came back to me with a brilliant smile. Thank you for that.

And over this past year, you made me give up my new Xbox, books, TV, movies, talking to friends, going for hikes, eating out and sleeping in.  On top of that you turned me into a diaper-ninja, a multi-tasking robot, an early riser, a regular shaver, a dishwasher, laundry-lover, a vacuum-freak, garden-warrior, a super-masseuse, a pink-lover and an impromptu lyricist. Mommy loves you for this.

And I love you too.

A Prayer for Sia

Dear God,

Thank you for bringing this beautiful, fragile, hungry-as-a-hippo, sleepy-by-day-whiny-by-night, diaper-destroying creature into my life. You, above all (pun intended), know how much I begged for this to happen. I owe you big time, okay?

And since you are obviously on a prayer-response schedule right now, I thought I might make good use of this time and sneak in a few more. Please don’t mind. It’s not like you’re running out of wishes to grant, right?

–x–

Please let her love the outdoors, so she can describe all the amazing things she sees to her grandkids, who would obviously be living in glass-encased colonies by the year 2080.

Do not let her put anyone else in the world above her mommy. Except her own babies and husband, of course.

Let her love animals. Especially dogs. Please. I’m begging you.

Let boys fall for her looks, but help her remember that it’s their weakness and not her strength.

Let her always love, respect and take pride in her vocation and skills. No matter what profession she takes up or how much she earns. Even investment banking, for that matter.

Even if she doesn’t believe in You or understand Your true form, let her take refuge in Hope – which is basically an atheist’s version of You.

Let her not call herself a citizen of any one country. She lives on a miniscule, fragile and finite piece of rock anyway.

Let her never go down without a spectacular and fierce fight.

Let Tina Fey not sue me for drawing inspiration from her prayer for her own daughter.

Let her lead and inspire a few people and be led only by the best. Okay, maybe just one of the worst for a short while, so that she can truly appreciate life better.

Let her never waste food or time. Let her waste money a few times, but only in her pursuit of non-materialistic joys. Not make-up. Or tattoos. Or fake fingernails with Justin Bieber on them (Please, NO!).

Let her love and devour books. It’s up to you if you want to make her wear glasses. It’s not like it’s the end of the world, right?

Let her enjoy old movies and songs, so she can imagine a simple, uncomplicated world sometimes.

Give her the capacity to keep her thoughts to herself. In the company of best friends, take it away.

Let her be a fan of Charlie Chaplin and animated movies. That way she and I can have something in common for a long, long time.

When she becomes a teenager, let her rebel against me. But do remind her that I specifically asked you for a girl child.

It’s okay if you occasionally make her naïve enough to think she’s smarter than her parents’ combined IQ. But give her the sensibility to say ‘No’ when the dangers of young life taunt her.

Let no government allow me to carry a gun by the time she starts dating. This time, remind ME that I specifically asked for a girl child.

Do not give her the perfect life partner. Let it be someone whose weaknesses are complimented by her strengths and who needs her just as much as she needs him.

Give her a long, full and exciting life. That way she can look back as an old lady and say “I was born in a home which had one TV, I had to carry heavy books to study and you actually had to walk to go places. Now look at how the world has changed – personal 3D holograph projectors, flying cars, and WHY DOES THIS FOOD PILL SAY ‘PIZZA’ WHEN I SPECIFICALLY ASKED FOR PASTA???”

–x–

Thanks in advance, God.

P.S.: There’s just one last thing, if you’re still listening. Let aliens be discovered at least in HER lifetime. Thank you.