Dear Ellie: I wish you kindness

Jan. 11, 2022

Dear Ellie:

You’re 10 months old today! How time flies and evaporates before my eyes. 

A friend told me that’s how it works when you’re old like me. When you’re only 1, a year is 100 percent of your life. Seems much longer. That’s why, for you, it takes so much longer for Santa to visit each year. By the time you’re 5 –- a year will be 20 percent of your life. That’s a long time. 

I’m 53 –- it’s less than 2 percent of my overall life, so the brain makes you think those years go by much more quickly.

I wished I could slow them down; enjoy all the time I can with you.

I wished the same wishes when your Mama was a baby. But with jobs and life and responsibilities and getting kids ready in the morning, and rushing home to make dinner at night and homework and bedtime stories and brushing teeth and soccer games and baseball games and getting up and doing it again and again and again, it goes in a blur.

Most bad days are never as bad as you think. And the horrible, terrible thing you worry about today, won’t be a blip of consideration a year or 10 down the road. You’ll wonder why you were so worried.

I have a lot of wishes for you and me

There will be days in your life that seem unending because some terrible problem you are having. Your parents won’t understand. No one will understand.

My wish is that you know these moments happen to everyone. They, too, will pass.

Most bad days are never as bad as you think. The horrible, terrible thing you worry about today won’t be a blip of consideration a year or 10 down the road. You’ll wonder why you were so worried.

You don’t believe me now. Trust me.

My wish is you appreciate each day you have, your family and your friends. Never take them or the moments for granted. There are many magical memories to be made. 

Today I baby sat you while your Mom was at work saving lives as a nurse, and your Dad was sleeping after his night shift as a cop. You hit a new stage today, needing — demanding — constant stimulation and attention.

The cool thing about being me, is I see you every few days to a week, and can easily see the changes and stages of your life. Maybe this is God’s way of slowing down life again for me.

You won’t remember what we did today. 

I will. 

We played with all your toys. I lost count of the times I chased down a plastic ring or wooden block you threw across the room. We read lots of books. I think it was the 40^th time for “Green Eggs and Ham,” but your favorite today was a book called, “Dance, Dance Baby.” 

Your Mom said that’s because she sings that book while reading it to you. I’m sure she’ll forever remember that and bring it up constantly. Moms have a way of doing that. My wish is you let her tell you those stories, again and again.

You won’t remember this part of your life. My wish is you remember the feeling you were cherished and loved, as you have been every day of your life. And as you grow up, I wish you will talk to your toys, love magic shows, play board games with your family and giggle with reckless abandon. Laughter is medicine for the soul.

My wish is you never forget that, you always chase your dreams and let nothing stop what you want to achieve.

But most of all, today my wish for you is to be kind to others. (Check back later. I’m bound to have other wishes, too. You are only 10 months old, after all).

Sadly, you will find mean people in this world. You may find bullies at school. Sometimes, kids are mean to other kids for no reason. I don’t know why. Don’t be that mean kid. Always treat people the way you want to be treated. 

And being kind to a friend or a stranger — just giving them a smile — could be the kind of kindness that saves their life, and you’ll never know it, because we never know what pains others are going through.

As you grow up, be kind and loving. I know you will.

I love you with all my heart.

– Grandpa …

No, wait … call me Grandpap. Or Pap-Pap. We’re still working on the name thing.