Stranger Danger

Hi Honey,

Yesterday you were playing with the dog in the circle. I always keep an eye on you to make sure there aren’t any cars coming or dogs running loose – like our neighbour’s. Remember how much that dog barked? Good grief. And we’d always say, ‘Hey Dad! Copa’s barking!’

I was baking two pies for your birthday dinner with nana and papa. I was stirring the lemon for the pie. You came in and everything was fine. And then five minutes later you told me that someone had talked to you while you were outside. You said that he was an older gentleman, on a purple bike with gold mudtrims.  He asked how old our dog was and you told him. He said that Dad had cut trees for him recently. You nodded. Then he asked Daisy’s age again and then he rode away. I didn’t think too much of it, but then I asked what he looked like. No glasses, kinda scruffy. Greyish curly hair. And he was black.

But your father has never cut trees for a black man. Except Leon. And it wasn’t him.

So I worried. I tried to stay calm in front of you because you don’t want your children to freak out, thinking someone is going to take them. But I talked to your dad and the police came over and took a statement. Because you never know.


We changed the locks on the doors that night. Your father put the shotgun in our closet, just in case.

So far so good.

I hope he didn’t want to steal Daisy. A lot of dogs get stolen. We keep a close eye on her.

The worries never stop, do they?

Love you.


The Fall

As a Mom, you always struggle with wondering if you’re doing the right thing for your child or not.

We’ve encouraged you to join the Orchestra program in Ottawa, for youth.  You were supposed to have an audition, and then you weren’t and then you were and now we just don’t know.  You’ve been taking piano/xylophone lessons from a friend of ours, Allyssa.  She’s teaching basic piano scales and when you went to music camp last week, they just happened to have a xylophone. And you picked it up rather quickly.  So now you start in the fall. And if you’re good enough, they’ll invite you to join their orchestra.


We’ve also encouraged you in gymnastics. Dad took you down to the competitive gym and you tried out for the coach. He said you were close, but because you didn’t have any experience in rings or the pommel horse, you’d be placed into intermediate. Which is cool. Because next year you  might be good enough for competitive.

But the question is, how far do we push? Are we pushing? I think about the homeschooling this year and I’m looking forward to it again. I mean, I wasn’t sure at first, but then when you were gone to camp for a week, it was hard to deal with. We weren’t getting your ‘best’ when you came home at the end of the day. And that sucks.

We keep telling you to rock it out. Because you just might get a scholarship. And you might. It would help.  Then you could study science anywhere you like.

We believe in you.

And I’m sorry in advance if I messed this whole thing up.

I love you.


Bad Mommy

Lately you’ve taken to calling me, Bad Mommy.

We were out walking the dog after dinner and I said out loud, ‘Oh, I forgot to take my pills today! That’s why I’m so tired!’ and you promptly replied, in a ‘Bahman, Piderman’ voice: ‘You da Bad Mommy. Always forgetting to take your pills. What’s wrong with you? I mean, seriously?’

And I just about peed I was laughing so hard.

So now you’ll snuggle me and say, ‘You da baddest mommy in the whole world. But I love you.’


And it always makes me laugh.




You were asking me the other day if I wanted the Parisian Café Lego set, or the Pet Store one. I answered that the Parisian Café was awesome and perhaps one day I would buy it.

I heard you talking to your father about buying it for me with your own money. He offered to pay for half.


that’s really sweet.


I love you.