Dear Tristan,
Every night when I put you to bed, you demand three things. A story. A lullaby. Snuggle time. Since you have your big boy bed, either Mommy or Daddy can climb into bed with you, while you pretend to be falling asleep. When I get up to leave it starts an epic tantrum that lasts for approximately 10 seconds and then stops so you can ask, "Tomorrow, can we go ice skating?"
I thought that you might actually know what ice skating is, since you've seen a little segment on one of your TV shows about a kid that goes ice skating with his mom. Since there's a new ice rink about 15 minutes away, we decided that on Saturday, we would take you ice skating. You were pretty excited about it all the way there. You didn't mind waiting in line. You were excited to see the ice skates that you were going to wear. Then we put them on you and you refused to walk on them. After a few minutes you had your feet under you and were walking just fine as long as we were holding your hand. We watched the Zamboni clean the ice and then went to get onto the rink. I picked you up and put you on the ice, ushering you over to the wall. And after a month of begging to go ice skating you decided one thing. No way in hell were you getting onto that ice. You were doing pretty well too. You had your feet straight and your balance was superb. I really think that you probably could have skated without my help at all. But that didn't matter because you started screaming and clinging to me or Daddy so desperately that we knew there was no way that you were going to get out there. We tried a few more times but each time you acted like we were bringing you to certain death. So you settled for sitting on the sidelines with Daddy, eating Reeses cups and watching the skaters.
We've declared that next time we go out to do something as a family, it will be something that you can get into also. I know you love a Reeses cup, but I felt like you were cheated just a little bit. I will confess though, when we took off our skates you were running around not listening and I told you to sit still next to us or I was going to put your ice skates back on. You sat.
You still pitch a fit some days when I take you into school. But it's not nearly as big of a fit as you pitch when someone says the word nap to you. I have to say I definitely appreciate the irony of you having a flat out tantrum about how you don't want to nap, mostly because you are so exhausted that you find it necessary to sob over anything that doesn't go your way. Like the nap.
Your brother has figured this out and announces loudly on the way home from school that you're going to have to go home and take a nap because tormenting you is his favorite thing ever. I guess there isn't much to do in the car so you guys like to see who can make the other cry the loudest while Mommy is driving. Before you start feeling sorry for yourself though, you should know that you do your fair share of tormenting Connor. Mostly you completely ignore him causing him to have a screaming tantrum because he's trying to talk to you and you aren't listening to him. You just stare out the window with a smirk on your face. I've never had to pull the car over, but it's coming. I know it as surely as I know that you'll never ask me if you can go ice skating in the morning again.
I love you,
Mama
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