The summer before you turned 2 there was a flaming Nicaraguan salsa dancing Ph.D. student living in our basement. His name was Yader and you thought everything he did was a-mase-sing (to use a Yader-ism). You mooched his breakfast, introduced him to all your trucks, and bullied him into reading you book after book. He was very friendly and patient and engaged you in conversation at a time when all you did was grunt and point. He was an extremely loud washer of dishes and prone to lengthy high pitched giggling fits, neither of which ever disturbed your slumber. He greeted you every morning by saying, "wha happened, Ro?" On his last day here you gave him a big hug and a framed piece of art you painted in his honor. We worry that you miss him, especially at breakfast and dinner time, which the two of you almost always ate together. But you never had a word for him so we don't know how you feel.
By the time you are old enough to see us as real people and not just your parents, you will no doubt be overcome by how dull our lives are. Many nights we are happy to just sit quietly together, doing nothing. We know how boring it will look to you. We know it will be years before you realize what an accomplishment it is, to sit still and be content. You will probably vow to never be so complacent. You will certainly wonder if we were always so boring.
Let it be known that during the summer of Yader we were exciting. We rode our bikes to parties, had backyard barbeque's, and regularly drank too much after you went to bed. Your Dad joined a beer club and got a new tattoo. One time your Mom forgot her keys and came home so late that Dad wouldn't wake up and she had to break into her own backyard, like a ninja. We never stayed out all night, but we knew people who did (Yader did, once). And, we participated in the very unparental activity of having a roommate.
Let the record show that we were pretty damn cool.
For parents.
amen sister.
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