COUNTING DINOSAURS

Dear Weeb,

A couple of years ago, I bought you this set of little plastic dinosaurs meant for teaching counting and patterns. There were red ones, green ones, blue ones and yellow ones. They aren't exactly accurate examples of dinosaurs. For example, the triceratops only has two horns.

We brought them to Grandma and Grandpa's so you and your cousin J could practice some math over the summer.

We went over there for a party and this is what I found on the toy shelves.

Your Grandma is funny.

BEDTIME WORRIES

Dear Weeb,

I do not have all the answers to things in life, but it is my job to keep you safe.

At bedtime, trust me, me and Daddy have covered as much as we can to keep you safe and sound through the night. The doors are locked. The alarm is on. The smoke detectors work. The carbon monoxide detector works. We have an earthquake kit. We are as safe as we can be. You worrying is not going to make us any safer and frankly, it's not your job. It's my job.

Now, I am well aware, though you are a worrier like me, what you are doing at bedtime, by expressing your many worries, is called STALLING.

There are, I can assure you, NO secret agents in the house. Whatever you think you heard, it was NOT a secret agent. No more Phineas and Ferb before bedtime for you.

Secret Agent 'Little Weeb' types a secret message

to headquarters after everyone has gone to bed.

There are NO snakes in the house. I've lived in this city for over 30 years and have NEVER seen a snake in the outdoors, much less sneaking around in somebody's house at bedtime.

There are NO vampires lurking around the upstairs. There are NO vampires. Period. Thanks to Grandma for that one. Next time you review what words start with the letter V, please ignore her terrifying vampire laugh that convinces you that she MUST be a vampire because Grandma would NEVER laugh like THAT! She did it to us when we were kids too and it was just as freaky. But she's just fooling. She's tricky, your Grandma.

Your toys are NOT staring at you. Every kid thinks this at one time or another, but trust me, they're NOT staring at you. Neither are they whispering to each other.

You do NOT have to be afraid of the little blinking light on the smoke detector. All that does is tell us the batteries are working. Things that blink are not necessarily going to lead to a scary noise.

You do NOT have to be afraid of every noise. We live in a noisy complex, you're going to hear a lot of noises. Noises can be warnings (like the smoke detector or the house alarm), but it is OUR job to take care of you if something is happening. But those kinds of things almost NEVER happen.

You do NOT have to be afraid of the toilet overflowing. I used to be afraid of the same thing when I was little. But even if it did happen, the house would not flood. If it did happen, we'd turn off the water or something; but the point is we'd take care of it. It's not that big a deal. Things happen and you deal with them. No big whoop. This is not school, we do not have a bunch of dumb kids trying to flush unflushable things, so it's unlikely our toilet will overflow.

Your bedtime worries remind me of what I was afraid of when I was a kid, and except for the secret agents, it was mostly the same kind of stuff. They remind me of what a vivid imagination you have. They remind me of how scary the unknown and the dark can be.

Now I will say to you what my father used to say to me when I admitted my silly fears to him at bedtime, "Stop being ridiculous and go to bed." I'm paraphrasing. When you're older, I'll tell you what he really said. Regardless, it always made me feel better, because if HE wasn't worried, why should I be worried?

Years later I learned that half the time that would just set off HIS bedtime worrying, but he had to act tough because he was a parent and convincing kids that there is no boogeyman is what we do.

I look forward to chuckling at your next batch of bedtime fears/excuses, even if half of them keep me up, worrying, just as I had done to my dad. Until then, it's my job to take care of the scary stuff, it's your job to brush your teeth, go to the toilet and just go to bed. I love you. Goodnight.

HOLES IN THE KNEES OF YOUR PANTS

Dear Weeb,

Though I appreciate that you did not get this hole by crawling around playing 'kitty', which is how you managed to get holes in most of your pants over the past two years, the two hour conversation that resulted in you admitting that you MIGHT have been using scissors at school and they MIGHT have slipped to the knee of your leggings makes me want to scream.

I have informed you that if scissors MIGHT be involved in future naked knee displays, YOU will be paying for the replacement pants / leggings.

"That's okay," you say to me, cheerily. "How much do they cost?"

I don't know! I don't think you're appreciating how angry I am at this, and your nonchalance is not helping (mostly because I'm trying not to laugh). 14 bucks, I say.

"That's okay," you inform me, again. "I have lots of money in my piggy bank."

Later, when your father got home, he was talking to you about the scissors. You told him you were cutting out a running shoe shape for the Terry Fox run and the scissors MIGHT have slipped.

As the conversation continued, we learned that you were cutting, on the table, you were sitting in your chair nicely (first time for everything) and the scissors just jumped out of your hand and cut a hole in the knee of your pants on the way down.

So we're not quite certain if this was an accident, an experiment or you just snagged it while you were playing on the playground.

I hope you remember this moment, this hole. I hope it was one of those moments of discovery for you. It's certainly reminded me that I need to let you have the freedom to go out and live life and find who you are and what your place is. More than anything, it helped me step back and remember that kids get and put holes in their clothes.

ROCK JUMPING

Dear Weeb,

They've added a new attraction to your school yard - boulders.

Now, as a worrisome parent, I don't quite see the appeal. I see boulders and it equates to broken bones, stitches and concussions.

I suppose we played on rocks, boulders and worse when we were kids and we lived to tell the tales. Of course, many of those tales involve broken bones, stitches and concussions.

The great big world. I have a bit of a problem letting you into it without my supervision.

You assure me that you are very careful on the boulders. Of course you tell me this, then run off to jump from rock to rock.

I'm posting this just as a preemptive 'told ya so' when you require your first arm cast. And if it never happens, then you can roll your eyes and remind me that I can't let you live in a bubble.

GRADE ONE

Dear Weeb,

Welcome to Grade One!

You were so excited last night that you had trouble falling asleep. When you woke up this morning, you were in a fantastic mood and very excited to start Grade One. Students had to go back to the same classrooms, though the same teacher wasn't there. The school's staffing isn't confirmed by the District until Wednesday, so they don't think they'll have new classes / teachers assigned until Friday. Until then, you get to hang out with your class from last year.

It was cool this morning, but the sun was up and shining. By the time you got out of class (today was only an hour in school) it was quite warm out. Today is supposed to be the warmest day of the entire summer. You and your friends played on the playground while I chatted with a few of the moms I used to chat with last year. It was no more than five minutes before I spotted you chasing boys. That's my girl!

A few days ago, you picked out your outfit for the first day of school. It's a pretty pink two piece outfit that Aunty M had bought for you in the spring. You have such a strong sense of self; gone are the days when I get to chose your outfits.

Summer really flew by fast! I can't believe you're already in Grade One! What an amazing journey you're on! I can't wait to see what this year brings you!

WHO'S THAT BEAUTIFUL GIRL?

Dear Weeb,

I took you out shopping for some new clothes for school, today. When we were in the fitting room, there was this girl who had me in stitches. She kept saying, "Who's that pretty girl in the mirror? That's ME!" She kept saying it over and over again and I just thought it was the most hilarious thing and was trying so hard not to laugh.

I don't know if this girl really thought she was beautiful or was more enamored with just chatting with her lovely reflection as she tried on clothes.

Well it certainly gave me a chuckle.

That little girl was you.

KITTY SISTER

Dear Weeb,

Just before Halloween last year, we lost our little black cat, Wee Hobbit McNasty. You and Hobbit weren't terribly close, but her death upset you quite a bit.

Since that time, you've bonded more than I expected with our remaining pet, Tibboh the Terrible. She's around 15 years old, now, I think. You two aren't exactly cuddly, but she does come to you for head scritches.

Today you were on the floor, drawing a picture on a large piece of cardboard and you had some sticker sheets strewn about, beside you. Tibboh thought it would be a good place to sprawl out, which annoyed you. I thought it was funny how you two were acting almost like siblings. "Daddy, Tibboh won't get off my stuff!"

It will be interesting to see how your 'friendship' progresses as you both get older.