"Par" For The Course

Dear Laney,

You are a lesson in contrasts. You're a two year old who sleeps in her own queen-sized bed. You regularly defy serious injury by hanging on to monkey bars or speeding behind the dogs in a little bike carrier. You will steal toys from children much bigger than you. You will chase a goat and jump on a horse. For you, the best part of skiing is going downhill, when you tell everyone within earshot that you're "whooshing and zooming!" But our shameful secret is that you like to do all of these super-scary grown-up things with a pacifier in your mouth. Or, as you call it, your "par."

You know what it reminds me of when I see you doing something that would frighten a sixth grader while sucking on that stupid plastic thing? John Kruk, a former major league ballplayer who played first base for the Phillies and took his team all the way to the World Series, but said he couldn't do it without the enormous wad of chewing gum in his mouth. (This is the first and last sports comparison that will be made on this blog, so I hope you all enjoyed it.)

Over the past two years, we have bought and lost dozens of "pars," and are down to our last one. Yesterday, you left it at school, which your dad and I didn't realize until it was time for bed - right when you want your par the most. Our house became Cold Turkey City.

And I mean to tell you, things turned ug-leeee.

In the early 1980s, country music legend Waylon Jennings* was hooked on drugs and refused to check himself into a treatment facility. So his wife Jessi locked him in a cabin in the middle of the Arizona desert and let him sweat it out. I imagine that Waylon without cocaine looked a lot like you without your par last night. (That was the 600th country music comparison made on this blog, with probably thousands more to follow, so I hope you all enjoyed it).

We all made it through the night, and your dad and I woke up hoping that was the end of the Age of the Par. But the first words out of your mouth this morning were, "I need my par. I go Tracy's house and get it.

C'on, DAD! DAD!!! Esss GO! In da truck!!!

So while I'm hoping we've seen the last of your par, I'm keeping my expectations to a minimum.

Love,

Mom

* Your Granny Jack has an unparalleled love for Waylon. When he would get arrested on drug possession charges, she would buy another one of his albums to show her support. She loved him even though he was - gasp - a smoker. When I was about your age, she bought us matching Waylon Jennings T-shirts. Here I am in mine at Christmastime:

1979 was a very classy year.