Thursday, July 29, 2010

Dear Ian, (Babble)

We’re excited to hear that you are wrapping up the last of your responsibilities in Iraq. 
Not long until you’re home!  Here are a few things to ponder on the flight to the United States:

Omega Burger closed down.

I threw out any of your clothes that had holes including that one nasty pair of sneakers.

The top dozen slots of our Netflix queue is just episodes of Mad Men.

That empty retail space near the violin store was briefly some kind of gym and now it’s empty again.

The birch tree you didn’t know we had has been removed.

Be prepared to address many computer issues when you arrive.

All the kids can use the microwave themselves, but still need to ask how much time to heat things for (unless it’s ravioli–they have that down).

Aden eats grape jelly, Mona eats strawberry.

Aden likes onions on her hamburgers, Mona likes pickles, Quinn would rather die than have either of those things with his meal but he does like salad.

The violin store is pretty messy, and there is a big stack of mystery papers on your desk there waiting for you.  Also that pole next to our building that I don’t know what it was is now gone.

The play structure in Humboldt Park was torn down awhile back, and they just started building the replacement.  Aden is upset because it will be different.

I will be asking you to move rocks in the backyard.  (But you’ll get two kisses for every rock and there are a million rocks, so it should work out in your favor at some point.)

The little girl ringing our doorbell repeatedly is named Karla.

The radio was stolen out of our car again.  (Ha!  April fools!  I didn’t have you around on the first of April so I’m getting caught up on that now.)

I have no idea where your keys or library card are.  (That’s not an April fools joke.  Sorry!)

Mona has four loose teeth.

Quinn has forgotten all his geography information but can talk about planets and write his own name.

Remember to turn right instead of left at our intersection.  The blue and white house may look like home, but the new neighbors will be very surprised if you show up there.  We’re across the street at the house with the lawn that needs mowing.

We’ll need to shop for a lawnmower.

Neighborhood Recess is every Thursday at 5:00.  Wear good running shoes.

I’m claiming the side of the bed near the windows.

All those giant army boxes you shipped home are stacked in your little study room.  (Good luck getting into your little study room.)

There is supposed to be a new garage out back when you get here.  (Right now it’s a muddy mess that I like to think of as ‘the moat.’  That’s nice too, but I’m still keeping my fingers crossed for a garage.)

The kids want you to select the new Rock of the Week.

Aden doesn’t need a booster seat now, but she still likes to use one.

The grill has sat untouched since you left.  We all want you to grill stuff.

Don’t let the kids use the sidewalk chalk on the bricks outside the violin store because apparently that counts as grafitti and our landlord will get fined.

The squirrels are more entertaining on this side of the street.

Aden desperately wants to go to Incrediroll.

Tony and Megan have a baby girl with lots of names but they call her Katie for short.
Smokey Joe, Mrs. Coleman, and our mailman have all died.

Quinn’s favorite color is still purple, but Aden’s is now blue, and Mona is conflicted about the whole concept.

I apologize that the change from the glove box feels funny.

We have a garbage disposal now, so you don’t have to flinch when I toss egg shells into the sink anymore.

We may be picking you up in a brainless rental van.

We love you more than you remember.  We’ve missed you like crazy.  The kids are bigger than when you left so be prepared for some power hugs.

I love you.  I’m proud of you.  See you soon.


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