A Baby's Lament

Going through some old files, I discovered the following letter written by our daughter, Wende, to her great grandfather on her first birthday, April 13, 1971. (She was a precocious child.): 

Well, Pop, that old bald cheater, Time, has crept upon me and much to my regret, I am now one-year old, which means less privileges and more responsibilities. 

For one thing, I’ll have to start walking. My first year I really had it made. All I had to do was pull up, smile and mumble a few incoherent syllables and my mom and dad would fall all over themselves trying to get photos, films, recordings and such. But now they’re tired of that and ready for me to take the big step so to speak. 

I can already tell that this coming year is going to be real tough. I am going to have to get busy and start talking in sentences. I’ve held back, because once you give in to them, they have you. 

And then there comes mastering the fork and spoon, not to mention adding a few refinements to my table manners. Eating with my fingers is just plain fun, especially when my mom’s back is turned and I get to throw food. 

Probably the time I dread most is potty training. After that you’re really civilized and I’m afraid there will be no looking back. 

Trusting that you will encourage my parents to let me be a baby for a few more years, I remain 

Your loving great granddaughter, 

Wende