Zachary, Sweetheart! Listen up - it's Mom's turn to talk.
As you know, you turned a wise old ONE year old yesterday - hurray for you! I get the sense that celestial baby years go by as fast as dog years, and that you're really like eight or nine compared to earthling baby. At any rate, yesterday was your birth/death day, your dirthday. And to celebrate, I get to feel like a Mom again for a couple of days, which - although I'll usually deny it - is one of the coolest sensations ever.
You're now at that age where you might start wondering about the birds and the bees, asking awkward questions that would make many parents squirm, like "why are boogers so fun to eat?" and, of course, the classic: "why did the American people reelect a fucking barf-bag for president?"
Part of feeling like a Mom again means I get to enlighten you with answers to those tough questions and then some. Most important, as a mature one-year-old, you are now old enough to know where you came from. So let me start with that one, a quick life history lesson, because it might be another year before I can muster up the courage and mental stamina to really focus on such questions. Yes, you have to catch me in a Mommyish mood like this in order to get any real dirt. Sorry, kiddo.
Here's what happened a year and a bunch of months ago. Dad and I got drunk at the tavern and did the wild thang, and boom - you happened (ask Dad what the "wild thang" is). You got big inside my belly and the world was a brilliant, rainbow place. Everybody just loved you.
Five weeks before you were supposed to emerge into the world, you got sick, I mean like really, really sick, and the doctors said you were on your way out. By "out," I mean, you were on your way up to where you are now - Baby Heaven, so it really wasn't that bad (for you, anyway). For Dad and me, though, it was the hardest, scariest thing in the world. The doctors told us if we delivered you like normal, you probably wouldn't survive delivery. And even if you did, you would only live for a few miserable days. Or, they told us, we could do this thing called Termination, which meant putting an end to your pain the fastest way possible. And that's what we decided to do.
So, they stuck needle full of Love Nectar right through my belly and into your teensy weensy heart (okay, it did have some other unpronounceable chemicals mixed in), and poof - you felt instantly better and light as a feather. You shot up into the sky, up and up to Baby Heaven, where you were greeted by hoards of other kids who got the short end of the stick and who are now all living the high life in a penthouse with a fridge full of baby formula, like characters on MTV's Real World. And that little six-pound body and the hurricane of sadness you left behind, well, Dad and I handled that, so don't worry your handsome little brown-haired head about it.
Anyway, there's your story in a nutshell, Zach. Now go off and celebrate your Dirthday with your little friends up there.
Oh, and regarding those first two questions: 1) boogers are fun to eat because they require so much work to obtain, making their consumption oddly satisfying. Kind of like pistachios. 2) as for why the American people reelected a barf-bag for president, I just Googled "why Bush was reelected" and no clear answers came up, so it's best if you ask Dad about it.