Baby Breakdown

This one isn't really about you as much as your mom.

Last night I let her stay up too late.  We'd been watching Boardwalk Empire.  Somehow the DVR failed to record it while it was running so we've been catching up with it OnDemand.  It's great.  Sooo much better than season 1.  Nuanced storytelling, deeper character development, perfect costumes and set design, blah blah blah.  It's addicting, and we've been devouring it this weekend while you've been sleeping.  

It was already 11pm when we decided to watch 'one more' - your mom's idea, not mine.  In fact, I suggested we cut ourselves off.  "It's late, sweetheart.  We should go to bed." (My exact words.)

"Oh, c'mon.  Just one more."

"Ok."

Meh, I should have put my foot down.

When the episode ended your mom turned to me.  "I'm so sad," she said.  I knew it had nothing to do with Margaret cheating on Nucky.  

"The weekend's over," she continued.  "This whole vacation is over.  I don't want to go to work tomorrow.  I already miss her."

"I know, sweetheart.  But she's not going anywhere."

"It goes so fast.  Everyone said it would go fast.  They're right.  It goes so fast.  She's going to go to pre-school and then she's going to be gone all day.  She wants to go.  She knows.  I'll never get to be with her."

"Sweetie, we have the rest of our lives."

"But anything can happen.  Every day is important."

"You're right."

"I just love her so much.  She's so sweet and good."

"I know.  She's a wonderful little girl."

"I just want her to like me.  I don't ever want her to hate me."

"Whoa, what are you talking about?  Are you high?  Who do you think she always calls for - Mommy."

"I know, but daughters always have issues with their mothers."

"Some of that is life, sweetheart.  I think that's built in.  It's hard wired.  It's inevitible on some level."

"But I just love her so much.  I want her to know how much I love her."

"She knows."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Your mom looked down into the couch.

"You know how I'm always right?" I asked.

She half-shrugged her shoulders and half-nodded her head.

"Like the Granny Smith apples?" I pushed.

For months I've been telling your mom NOT to get me organic Granny Smith apples.  For some reason they are ALWAYS mealy.  I like a good crisp genetically engineered green apple.  Yesterday, your mom revealved that she finally understood I was correct to maintain my politically and organically incorrect apple stance.

"Yes," she said.  "Like you were right about the apples."

"Well, this one is even easier.  She knows.  I'm sure."

Then your mom blathered on about one thing or another.  I have no idea.  I tuned it out.  I was done.  But what I know for sure - your mom loves you all the way to the moon and back.  

And then some.

PS.  I do, too.  But I think your mom already has her pilot's license.