Dear Ethan,

Dear Ethan,

This is a rare serious post. Tonight I looked you in the eye and told you I was disappointed in you. It was not the first time I've ever been mad at you, but it was the first time I've ever told you that.

And now I can't stop thinking about it. I don't know if it's one of those things that you'll still remember 50 years from now as a seminal event in your childhood, which led to a lifetime of misery and suffering and feeling unloved--or whether you've already forgotten all about it, and it's me who won't be able to let it go.

You are full of fun and mischief and humor, and it's part of the wonderfulness of you. How do I teach you how to turn it on and off? What if I squish it right out of you? I don't want to extinguish your creative orneriness. But I'm afraid you're going to get kicked out of school before you reach first grade. And that's not so good.

I want you to be you. The world is such a wonderful place with you in it. My life is wonderful because you're in it. Your creativity, your energy, your devious smile. The world would be so dreary without pinks and purples and aquas, and square pegs that don't want to be squished into round holes, and boys like you who see the world in ways that others don't.

But, as I have learned the hard way, there's a fine line between a mischievious rebel and a narcissistic asshole. There are other people in the world too, and you can't just tromp through other people's picnics on the way to expressing yourself. I gotta help you draw the line, because, you know, you're five. You're too young to be a narcissistic asshole. At least wait until high school, so you can quote Nietzsche and blame everything on religion.

You exasperate me, and you make me laugh, and every now and then you make me cry. Your Grandmother Tarpley would surely just roll her eyes and say it's karma.

You and Samuel are the greatest boys in the history of all boys. I will always be on your team. I will always love you. I just want you to make it through okay.

Okay?