13 Months: My Little Teenager

Dear Grayson,

You are 13 months today, you little teenager you. Right smack on schedule you have become a squinty, devil-eyed, cackling rebel. Why? WHY!?

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First let's talk fingernails. You will not let me cut them anymore. Bad for you and worse for me as I am constantly given the once-over, scratch marks down my arms, neck and chest. I look like a victim of assault and/or a cat lady. As you know I dislike cats about as much as I dislike mayonnaise so this is really unsettling. Your toe nails are also quite long and I'm considering giving you a ghetto-fab mani-pedi. Maybe with a little butterfly stencil or a flower? Wuah-ha-ha! How about that for revenge? But seriously. Your claws are becoming an issue and that ain't swell, dude.

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Second, I would like to take back everything I said about wanting you to walk. Please regress so I can have my sanity back. In the past hour alone, you pulled 7201 items out from under my bathroom sink and strew them on the floor, about a zillion DVD's out of the coffee table, you broke a remote control, ate a doodle bug, and swam in the dog's water bowl. You hid out in my closet for ten minutes with 89 pairs of shoes and when I found you, you were eating my favorite Steve Madden sandal, you then sorted through the dirty laundry and spread it all over the kitchen. You decided to sit on "Dawk" (Bentley) while she was sleeping, thus pissing her off. You tore this month's Vogue, and I wasn't finished reading about Kate Hudson and gagging myself over her adorablity. You clawed me a hundred times, you emptied a bucket of Lego's and pushed them all under the couch. You emptied a bag of cheddar bunnies and pushed those under the couch. You knocked over my glass of water, you somehow found a small wooden object and chewed it. You threw-up something that looked alive, you banged your head against the coffee table until you cried, you locked yourself in the bathroom, and you broke into my car and drove it away. Seriously. All of this actually happened (except for the car-driving part.)


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Lastly I would like to comment on your diet. Two bites of grilled cheese and a 1/2 oz of juice? Dude. This isn't prison but it might be soon if you keep feeding Avocado, Pesto ravioli and Chicken to the dog. I want you to be happy, sure, but how can I possibly sit back and watch you eat rocks and sticks and sand? I just don't understand you!? Why do you fill your body with such harmful substance! How could you?

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You're only thirteen (months). You have your whole life ahead of you. Please let me cut your fingernails. Please don't try to eat the dog.


I love you anyway, even if you have chosen to join the dark side. It's just a phase, I keep telling myself. Sigh... Adolescence.

Hangin Tough,

Mommy