Dear Nice People at Kindergarten,
There has been a mistake. This is not my little boy.
‘Twas but yesterday that I swaddled him up a blanket and brought him home only to stare at him in wonder.
There was a little boy here just now who would fly with the velocity of a speedy bullet into my arms and who fit perfectly in my arms like a snuggly koala.
He was just here. A scrawny little thing who was a late speaker and an early thinker. Sweet, gentle and with such knowing, old eyes – when he wasn’t furious and frustrated that the world was so much bigger than him and so much stranger.
He was just here. I need to find him again because I’m not sure I’ve hugged him enough, listened to him enough or told him enough about things that matter. I’m not sure he knows that he changed my life for the better.
You might just have the wrong boy.
This boy sings clearly and with absolute enjoyment. He is seemingly without nerves when speaking in public before an audience of 50. This confidence is new, the bowing with relish, the handshaking. This piece of paper you gave him today made him grow a few inches this week – though I have barely had time to notice between browsing through baby pictures and bursting into tears.
We’re glad you like this boy. Thank you for having him. Now, could I have my baby back please?