Dear Sweet Love,
Your father looked at me, made a face, and said, “It tastes like wet marshmallows. Ew, gross.” He stuck out his tongue in disgust then, with a sour look, ate more of the frozen yogurt sample. After a hard swallow he said, “alright, which next?” and I fell in love with him, all over again.
Yesterday was a hard day. Not because anything in particular happened, but because I’ve been stressed by the fate of the world, by the logistics of family coming up for your baptism (what to feed them, especially), and it was a long day and I was beat. We went out for dinner, and you kind of talked/yelled for a lot of it, and it was hard to keep you settled. Finally, I’d had it and jumped up then swung you in your car seat, back and forth, which kind of settled you down, and we left. And then we walked by my favorite frozen yogurt shop, where you can try a dozen free samples, giving yourself tiny little tastes of any one you want. It’s heaven and I love it, and it was hard when we learned that your dairy intolerance means I can’t eat any dairy, either. That was a devastating moment, when I learned that.
Let’s see. I’d just had eye surgery and was doped up on extremely strong pain killers, and I was embarrassed by my eye and wearing strong, black sunglasses (and a hard plastic patch at night that I had to tape onto my face. It looked gorgeous.) And then you were suddenly sick… sick enough to make an emergency appointment with the pediatrician, where I learned that you’re allergic to dairy.
“He’s in pain,” said the pediatrician, before she squeezed the sides of your stomach and you squealed a little bit. “See?” Geez. I’d had no idea you were in pain. You’re a stoic baby. When you’re cold you just look stoic and kind of miserable. But you don’t cry. Why do you put up with it? Or assume that’s just how life is? Why do you know how to suffer? She also said, “He’s perfect,” and held you up and kissed you. “Just perfect.”
So your dad and I walked by the frozen yogurt shop and he said, “want me to try every single flavor and tell you how awful it is?”
Which totally wouldn’t work because I know they’re all delicious. So I declined. But then he pushed us toward the door and made us go inside, gave me a taste of their gross berry-no-dairy flavor and then asked which one he should try first. The Toasted Marshmallow “Wet marshmallow. Bleh.” The European Tart (my favorite) “Rancid.” The Country Vanilla “Gross. It’s gonna make me sick.” The Double Chocolate “Tastes like those fudge bars we used to get from the grocery stores as kids, but way worse. What next?”
I felt like we were in a romantic comedy. It was one of those moments where life felt special, and I felt so lucky to be with your dad. I hope you’re just like him.
- Your Mama xo