Today’s Diana’s third Mother’s Day. Un-freaking-believable. She is the one who keeps this wagon train moving. She keeps Elijah from destroying himself and our house (right now, she is holding him down in the bathroom trying to brush his teeth while he shouts “Peanut!” over and over at the top of his lungs) 24 hours a day. And she does it while looking like someone who could be mistaken for a 22 year old. We’ve really turned into a bad sitcom cast. Hot wife, cute kid, oaf husband. All we need is Jerry Stiller living in the basement. Too obscure? It’s called the internet. Look it up.
For her ironic gift, Eli and I allowed her to spend the day as a non parent. You know, to remind her what life was like before negotiating urination with monkey stickers. She spent it shopping for clothes and shoes. Lame. If it was me, I would’ve gone on a three state robbery spree. Or probably just a bar.
For her non-ironic gift, Elijah drew her a scribble letter, which I had to translate. Man, for a two-year-old his penmanship is terrible. Here is what he wrote:
“Dear mommy. You are the best mommy in the world. You are super pretty and nice and you sing really great. And you’ve taught me everything I know. I am the luckiest boy in the world because you are my mommy. Love Elijah.”
He meant every illegible word of it. Me too. I love you.
Special shout out to my mom, who is under the weather. Get well soon, Jane.
p.s. I just heard Diana shout from the bathroom, “Hey! You can hurt your penis that way!” Eli, if you are reading this in the future and you still have a penis, thank your mother.
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