Dear Man Child

Dear Precious Little Man Child,

I've decided that there is something important you need to know. We focus a lot of time on the fact that you are precious, that you are my gift from God, that mommy always wanted a little boy and I could not be happier that God gave me you. We spend a lot of time on this because it is all very true and always will be. I think it is important that your rotten little self knows why we spoil you so rotten.

However, I seem to have missed an essential detail so far in all of our talks and it appears that it is time to remedy that. You see, just as I am so very blessed (beyond blessed even) to have you, you lucked out in the "mommy of a boy" department. Long before you were born, I was a die hard football fan...and speaking of Die Hard, I believe that it is one of the greatest movies ever. I love just about any action movie (the bigger the gun and explosion, the better). I eat guy food, watch super hero movies, and have no issue with jumping into a game of tackle football. I love boy noise and as you get older, I can easily foresee our house full of boys being fed chili, hot dogs and an abundance of baked goods. I will rough house, sword fight, or play the damsel in distress if needed. I will cheer you on as you run, jump, climb and tackle your Daddy all over the house and when he is working late nights or gone on youth retreats, I will stand in his place (at least until you're 8 and as big as I am).

I say all of this to say, as badly as I want a little girl, I'm pretty well cut out to be the mother of boys. I mean, I even listened to you talking about shooting Geeda's gun over Christmas break without having a panic attack. There is still that one little issue that we seemed to have forgotten though and I guess now is as good a time as any. So here it is, I will never and I do mean NEVER be ok with walking into the bathroom and dragging my pants leg and foot through a puddle of pee. Hit the toilet...or else.

Love,

Momma