Perfect

I remember going out to dinner with my in-laws somewhere downtown, in the middle of a cold winter. My mother-in-law, who was talking about how worried she was about her daughter, announced that she didn't worry about her son, because he was, you know, perfect. Perfect in every way. I couldn't help but to roll my eyes. My husband, as wonderful as he is, is not perfect. And the fact that his mother thinks this is so, is something that I can't help but to find annoying. I really wanted to start listing those things which make her son in fact, not perfect. Which is kind of a strange reaction from one's wife. But I don't believe in perfection. Perfection just doesn't exist. And I think someone who thinks that their son is perfect, is well, not living in reality. Maybe that day or maybe it was another day, she said that I'd understand once I had a child. And perhaps, in a way, I do now. It's not that I believe that my son is perfect - it's that it would pain me greatly for someone else to see flaws in my son. It would really wound me. It's a strange thing. I want to protect him from hurt. And someone thinking he is not perfect, is, well, or would be, hurtful, I suppose. So, in a way, I understand now. Which is annoying because I sure as hell don't want to agree with my mother-in-law. I also understand that the term perfection, in this context, means that he is happy, that he is well, that all is right. And he seems to be - he is great and happy and thriving. He is our greatest reward. I cannot believe how lucky I am. After all this time, after all this want, I finally get to be around this wonderful, wonderful boy.

And since I am most definitely not perfect, I am going to attempt to write that letter to my son, the one that I thought I'd do every month and I've managed once:

Dear son:

You are now five months old! You now wiggle around and flip over from your tummy to your back. We think you learned this because you hate to be on your tummy. However, you are starting to tolerate it for a little longer now. You squeal with delight when Daddy tickles you or says something funny and you laugh politely at Mommy's jokes. You and Mommy fall asleep together most evenings and Daddy has to try about fifty times to wake up Mommy so they can eat dinner. You are adorable when you sleep. You have also started grunting when you are dissatisfied or unhappy about something. You grunt in a most displeased way until we pick you up from whatever terrible predicament you have found yourself, such as sitting in your bouncy seat for too long or laying on that boring old play mat. We love that you are so assertive! You used to love to stand rod straight on your legs - however, now you like to make your legs like jelly and bounce up and down. You are really paying attention to your surroundings now, too. Today you put your hand in Mommy's hair and took a long, curious look at it through your fingers. You do love to talk and you have a wonderful voice. You have a lot to say! We love listening to you.

We love you very, very much.

--Mommy