Don't Say I Didn't Warn You

Remember how your elementary school class made that time capsule that you buried in some obscure corner of the playground for other kids or aliens or subdivision planners to discover 50 years In The Future? You stuffed it with Lunchables, a VHS tape of New Kids on The Block's Hangin' Tough, and figurines of each Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle? You know, so that they'd know what it meant to be a child of the late 20th century?

I've been thinking recently that dating websites and matchmakers everywhere should take a page out of this elementary school lesson plan. They should encourage parents to jot down notes about, and gather artifacts representative of, their children as they age. Then down the road, when a prospective mate comes knocking, they can decide whether to proceed after digesting all that mother knows best. A spin on the What To Expect When You're Expecting series, you might say, only actually helpful. We could call it What To Expect from The Person I Expected.

There'd be an added bonus for mothers of sons, assuming they write their time-capsule submissions without their rose-colored glasses on: an immediate defense to charges of He Thinks The World Is His Pedestal. I warned you, sweetheart. Now please, I'm late for my mahjong game.

I'll get the ball rolling. Here's my first letter. The subject is my son.

December 7, 2012

To Whom It May Concern:

So, you think you might have a crush on my son.

Before you start not-talking to him and practicing how to say Mateo in Spanish, I'd like you to read this. There are some thing about him I think you should know.

He is almost 15 months old.

He still cannot walk on his own. He will travel on his feet, but only if he is holding someone's hand/finger.

He always wants to be picked up. As soon as he is picked up, he wants to be put down. He spends much of his life being carried in a horizontal position, as if he were Batman, Jr. preparing to take flight. It's the only compromise.

For months, he crawled using only his arms, as if our playroom were a beach he was storming. It took a lot of coaxing and coaching to teach him that his legs could participate in the activity as well.

He dislikes most new foods. The only foods he liked immediately upon their first introduction were french fries and Cheetos.

He is passionately interested, however, in whatever anyone near him is eating. He will grunt and gesticulate in wild indications that he would like to share. As soon as sharing has occurred, he throws the food item onto the floor. Then he immediately grunts and gesticulates for another piece.

He cannot be bothered to hold his own milk bottle.

He shows affection by clawing at faces, noses, and eyeglasses. If he really loves you, he will bite your knee.

He does not enjoy drinking water from a sippy cup, but he loves splashing his hands in the toilet bowl and then licking his fingers.

He left the holiday party at his daycare last night with a bleeding scratch and a black eye. That's because he spent most of the night wrestling with two 4-year-old boys. He had a spectacular time.

He will cry if the laundry machine dings during his afternoon nap, but he will sit in an LL Bean backpack carrier in a snowstorm without complaint.

He can only be entertained with sports -- either playing them or watching them. Either way, he will regularly groan "awwwww," as if he understands what just happened to the ball.

He has come close to breaking a Johnny Jump-Up and an Exersaucer from jumping too hard.

He has a great giggle.

His favorite person in the world is his sister.

He is very cute.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Yours truly,
Mrs. Diaz