(A virtual Dirty Martini with many olives to the first reader to correctly identify the movie my headline references.)
I remember when you were tiny, with rolls of fat on your legs. I remember that any time I took you outside, I felt like the celebrity minder for a famous duo. Never have I been on the receiving end of more attention as when I pushed your City Mini, and I proudly answered most questions (like a good publicist) about you both.
I remember when we worried our third story walk-up with no yard in the city was no place for two active, mercurial, curious toddlers who defeated every attempt at babyproofing amateurs and professionals made. I remember the heartfelt decision to move to the suburbs, where we could give you the outdoorsy, bucoulic childhood we both had. I can remember little of this busy year, and so it is no surprise that I wasn’t even featured in the photo that year.
I remember the year we learned you would share your lives with another sibling. I remember the day those dreams were denied and dashed. I remember I was often melancholy. I am sorry for all of that.
I remember the year you became charming companions, no longer just babies to chase, but little people with important questions and dreams. I remember taxing my brain to answer questions about how rocket ships fly, what the government is, why God is everywhere. I remember your elaborate plays where tragedies occured but somehow everything ended well. I hoped that would always be true in your life.
Tomorrow you will be starting Kindergarten. I love you both so very much. While you will always be my babies, I could not be more proud of who you both are becoming: smart, strong, independent and kind children.
May you florish and grow as you enter the next passage of your lives.
Your loving mother.
