two years, six months, (almost) three weeks

Dear Zac,

I can't wait for you to stop telling me what you know you're supposed to do and actually just do it. 

When mommy says stop, I really do mean stop. It is not enough for you to just tell me that you know you should have stopped. And yes, you fell down a flight of stone stairs in Central Park last Friday because you were not listening. 

I've had days of nightmares now. Each time I watch you fall over and over again. Each time it ends worse than the day it actually happened. Though there isn't a bump, scratch or bruise on you (miracle?), in my nightmares you land at the bottom covered in blood, head to toe.  I'm sorry. I don't usually write so much about my fears about raising you, but this week's been tough. 

I worry when you'll grow out of this impulsivity. Obviously your feeling of invincibility will last several more years (someone recently joked that it could last well into your twenties! Yikes!), but at some point you will need to be aware of putting your body in real danger. 

This week was a good week in terms of taking walks and trusting you won't run away. You prepare me before each walk and say "I walk nicely. I hold Mommy's hand to cross the street. I don't run away from mommy. Or I sit in the stroller with straps." I hope you won't need too many more reminders about not running into the street. You've been very good about waiting at the corner for the light to change. I think we're ready to move on to "look both ways before crossing", though in NYC you need to walk half way into the crosswalk to see if anyone's speeding through. 

Please keep your body safe, little man. I really can't handle more scares like last Friday. 

Be safe, pumpkin. I love you like crazy. 

Love,

Mommy