Ms. Sandman

Dear Maly,

I usually write a letter to you on around the 15th of every month. I just couldn’t wait this time around. You have changed so much in just the past few days and I couldn’t resist the urge to convey the whirlwind of emotions that your mom and I have experienced recently.

As always, you’re the smoochy poochie sweet pea that that we pride ourselves in having created. We outwardly brag about you and impose upon complete strangers all that is ever-so-cute about you. I parade you about restaurants and stores with you high upon my shoulders. We indulge in your every whim. We hold you above all else.

Now I think you’re old enough to where I can ask a favor of you.


Ever since the end of Daylight Savings Time, you’ve started waking up at 5 a.m. Today was Saturday. Daddy would like to sleep in on Saturday. For a year and a half thus far you have allowed Daddy to sleep in if he needs to.

It will be a few years before you can appreciate what a Saturday is. I think I’m going to wait 12 years before I get you back. When you’re 14-years-old, I’m going to wake up at 5 a.m. on a Saturday, walk into your room in a pair of pink unitard pajamas and with hair disheveled, defecate myself and start crying while holding meowing cat.

And then your girlfriend’s from school who stayed over the night prior for a slumber party will wake up screaming. The neighbors will call the cops because terrified teenage girls will be stumbling over themselves in attempt to vacate the house and there will be me, standing in the doorway in a pink unitard emanating the stench of feces with my comb-over hanging to one side of my head.

The cops will ask, “Mr. Janicek, what happened?!?!”

It will be at that moment when I point to you and reply with a smile, “The end of Daylight Savings Time”

And the adults will all laugh, I’ll mow the lawn and you’ll go to school on Monday and have no friends.

So, please go back to bed, Sugar.

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