To my son

Dear precious son,

I fear that I have damaged you for life. I may have caused you to be OCD. Sorry! It's probably because I'm a little that way. I didn't mean to pawn my problems off on you too.

When you eat, you can't have anything on or around your mouth. It's funny because you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. You do try to get any "left-overs" into your mouth, but when that doesn't work it ends up on the back of your hand. This seems to bother you less than having stuff on the front of your hands.

We haven't had much warm weather yet, but you have enjoyed being outside on the few nice days this spring. I let you wander around the driveway a little bit. You're still a little wobbly on uneven surfaces at times. So trying to walk in the grass proves futile. A few times when I was following you around the driveway you fell gently forward. You were discusted at the small stones and dirt on your hand. It was funny watching you try to stand up with your little hands stretched out in front of you like they had the plague and might infect you at any moment. You were not going to use those hands when they were so dirty. I came over and tried to rectify the problem by showing you if you brush your hands together it will get most of the dirt off. That seemed to help.

I know the problem with food on your face was started by me, and to be fair Grandma warned me. When I first started feeding you rice cereal and other baby foods, I always kept your mouth clean. If a little bit got on your face, I promptly wiped it off with the spoon or a wet rag. I still do this. But now it's funny to watch you wipe things off immediately, because they must bug you immensely the way you do it.

I suppose I will be the cause of other things you do in life that may not be the best. You'll probably be a perfectionist too. Sorry for that as well. Although your father could play a role in that too. I guess that's what you get for being the first-born child to two first-borns.

I just hope that we'll do enough good things to you that you will still turn out to be a good person. Not that I don't think you will be good, but I hope that you can function in life like a normal member of society. And then there is only so much I can do. You will be who God created you to be. I'm OK with that. It's a good thing you're so lovable.

Love,
Mommy