My apologies to the number 11

Dear Eleven,

Can I just say I’m really, really sorry. For everything. An all-emcompassing everything that I have done or am going to do in the next year. For all of the times when your eyes will roll back in your head or your bottom lip will quiver or the hot tears will spring from your eye sockets. For all of the stupid things I’m going to say, like “please eat your mashed potatoes”. For all of the times when I’ll do really gross things like give you a hug or tell you how much I love you. For every time I will send you running to your room in tears because I commented that the shirt didn’t match the pants.

I especially want to apologize for buying you Dance Dance Revolution for Easter and expecting you to like it. I was negligent in my research and didn’t realize that a person couldn’t conquer that game on the very first try. In my defense, I thought I remembered you asking for it and I had no idea that it would treat you so brutally, sending you off after every turn to wail and beat on the couch because you failed the level. An inatimate object calling you a failure, to your face. That Bastard! I will try to make my purchases more “Eleven friendly” in the future.

Also, sorry about that time I said to Ashley that I remembered when she was eleven and how difficult she was to deal with then too. I should have known that you’d overhear and might take it the wrong way. My bad.

Eleven, I know that you haven’t yet fully taken ahold of my daughter. I realize that she’s a good month and a half away from completely transforming into you. I guess I thought I had more time to get ready. I haven’t bought enough kleenex and my armour is still at the shop being repaired from the last time you were here. But, I will do better! I can change!

I also wanted to say it’s not you, it’s me. And again, I’m sorry.



3 responses to this post.

  1. Oh, please don’t tell me I only have another 3.5 years to prepare for that!


  2. And me? I am stupid enough to put myself through it FOUR times..gah. Two girls, and two boys. WHAT was I thinking?


  3. It can’t be worse than four


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