Thursday, August 29, 2013

Where You Are

Dear Scarlett,
You are asleep. Dad is in Kansas City for two nights, and I spent several minutes scrolling through the list of On Demand TV shows and movies before deciding I'd rather write to you. Today we spent a very long time looking at Halloween costumes online. On our way to your friend Audrey's birthday party a week and a half ago, we passed a pumpkin patch. It was the same place we went last year where you rode a pony for the first time, ate pumpkin pie, and went on a hay ride and a train ride. As soon as we passed it, I felt like the holidays were getting close. I know, it's only August, and it's definitely my fault that we're already looking at Halloween costumes.

Our site of choice is Wishcraft, and you've so far picked out a ladybug, something called Skeletina, a blue-wigged pop star, a hippie chick, and a disco doll. It's a good thing we have some time to decide, although I think you might be under the impression that you are getting all of these costumes.

Today at swim class, you got a sticker for doing 5 up-faces across the pool without fins. You are becoming an excellent swimmer and it's a lot of fun to watch you. I'm really looking forward to your soccer practices next month to see how you take to that sport. You're already dressed for it, thanks to a shopping spree by Dad at a local sporting goods store.

I think Dad is really excited for you to get more into sports (and we'll see if you do, but I'm hopeful, as well.) He wants a buddy to watch college football with. He bought you a bat and a wiffle ball, too, so you guys can play together. What fun. So far, you just carry the bat around like it's some kind of ineffectual umbrella, but we'll get there.

You're having a hard time staying in your bed recently. You will come out at least 2 and sometimes 5 times to tell us "I don't know where I am," with a twisted little grin on your face, because of course you know very well where you are. Every time, we walk you back to bed and tuck you in, and then we sit waiting for your little feet to come padding out again. Tonight you only came out twice, and I was sitting in silence until a fireworks show started over the Giants stadium. I pressed my face up to our big living room window so that I could watch it. And part of me kind of wished you would get up, so that you could see it, too.