Memory #957: The Thin Line Between G And K

Dear Blue,

You like to talk. This is not a surprise since you’re a toddler and you try on words like they’re clothes at a thrift store. And you don’t let insignificant annoyances like pronunciation hinder you from trying to communicate to anyone and everything. It’s admirable. If we somehow manage to get you through this stage and you still attack the English language with no shame to your game, we’ve won. We have won.

Right now, we’re in the game, and that means helping you figure out how to get your tongue and your brain on the same linguistic page.

For instance, you have trouble pronouncing FR. It comes out like FUH. Also, you usually pronounce G as K.

This led to a situation  at the zoo. We were heading down the hill to your favorite exhibit, LAIR. Like most boys, you like your animals creepy, crawly and slimy. I mean, you really like them.

As soon as we entered, you ripped your hand out of mine and went catapulting across the room towards a glass window and behind it, a mossy log. As you went, you started yelling “F@*K! F@*K! F@*K!”as you pointed emphatically at the glass. Parents gasped. Kids gave ground. Who was this little kid who spoke so foully? Where did he learn such filth? And where were his parents?

Right here, prudes. And no, we’re not going to correct him.

He really like his FROGS.

You’re my boy, Blue.



Memory #902: That Time We Were Almost Crushed By A Flying Tent


Dear Blue and Wheels,

Blue, I saved your life yesterday.

I think I saved your life. We’ll never know entirely for sure because I was busy saving your life instead of figuring out the alternative, but I’m pretty sure I saved your life.

It went like this.

I took you to a “Touch a Truck” event at the horse track. This is exactly what it sounds like. You buy a ticket, and then you get to walk around and touch trucks. A lot of them. Dump trucks. Trash trucks. Fire trucks. SWAT trucks. Pretty much any and every sort of utility vehicle, and you can touch all of them You can touch ALL the buttons.

For a 2 year old obsessed with cars and trucks, this was your North Pole.

They even had Star Wars cosplayers and Batman roaming around.

We spent about two hours there. We got to touch everything but the trash truck, which was surprisingly the most popular truck by far. You weren’t able to wait in lines, not when there were UPS cargo trucks to explore.

As we were leaving, I had you on my shoulders. There was a gust of wind, and I heard shrieks. I look up and there’s a portable booth tent flying in the air like a kite. It floated there for a second like a nylon jellyfish, and then started coming down.




I quickly ducked under a horse starting gate, and the tent came right down on the spot where we were just standing.

Somebody said, “Is everyone okay?” I said, “Yeah.” You said, “Choo choo truck.”

And that was that.

Our lives were almost changed forever in the blink of an eye and then the blink passed and they weren’t.

Another crazy thing. The tent that almost smashed us? It had your sister’s name printed on it.

I do not believe in omens. You two are going to get along great.


Memory #854: Hi Mommy

Dear Blue and Wheels,

The other day at the playground, you wanted to ride the tire swing, Blue. The tire swing is a popular apparatus, and normally it’s off limits because the older kids like to hang around on it.

But on this day, it was free, and you rushed over to it, converging on the swing at the same time as another kid. You both climbed in, and as per tire swing etiquette, I was offered the pushing duties since you were smaller.

I don’t know if you like the tire swing, Blue. My suspicion is you get on it just to prove to yourself that you can, but it’s clear every time you go on you are not enjoying yourself as much as you are when you’re climbing up the slide backwards.

You grabbed the chain with both hands, white knuckles just above the links. You didn’t smile. Didn’t laugh. All that you did was mumble “Hi mommy” over and over again.

“Hi mommy” has become your most recent self soothing mantra. It’s something you do when you get really nervous. For a while, it was spinning in a circle. Before that, it was making raspberries. These sorts of things come and go, so I try to get them on video in case they disappear and are never seen again.

So you kept saying “Hi mommy”, even though it was daddy that was pushing you and mommy was across the playground. The kid across the tire swing from you, whose knees you were touching, looked at you, confused.

“I’m not your mommy,” he told you.

There wasn’t much more to say, as you two strangers shared the inside of a tire, swinging dizzily in a slow circle while touching knees.

Wheels, you can now kick mommy so hard we can see your footprint now. Impressive.