Dear Dad,
Mum said that since we haven’t seen each other for almost three weeks now and you’re all by yourself in Sri Lanka at the moment, it would be nice of me to write and tell you all the news
Well.
Important things first. You must tell Mum to stop putting me down on that horrible green furry stuff that’s just everywhere outside. It makes no sense. She scolds me for ripping leaves off the plant in the kitchen, and she doesn’t want me picking things up off the floor and putting them in my mouth, but she regularly abandons me to whatever might be lurking in that filthy fuzzy carpet outside. Revolting! Plus, she always laughs at me a little just before she rescues me. She tries to hide it, but I see those smirks. I see everything.
She’s done a bit of laughing these last couple of weeks. Sometimes she laughs at what people say about the book. I think the best one was when Mama’s cousin came to see her one day and said, “I loved the book, shall I tell you what my very favorite part was?”
“Sure,” Mama said.
The cousin paused for a while and thought hard. Then she leaned forward and said, “Well, I really liked the part that Ryan wrote.”
Mama laughed pretty hard then.
GrandNan made her laugh, too. Remember how GrandNan said she couldn’t bear to read the book because it felt too personal, like she was reading Mama’s journal? Well, she changed her mind and read it. Then she made Mum an amazing passionfruit sponge cake because Mum said near the end of the book that that that particular cake tasted just like home to her. When we went round for tea GrandNan grasped Mama by the arm and said, “Oh, my dear, I loved the book. But, oh, the things you’ve seen. It’s a wonder you’re both not mentally damaged. And I think you’re lucky to still be alive.”
Then she said, “don’t you dare put that on the internet.”
That made everyone laugh. I laughed too, but mostly because I was so thrilled that Mum fed me some of that cake. That stuff is delicious. While I think of it, can you please tell Mum that I’d prefer to eat nothing but sponge cake from now on? I can’t seem to make myself understood on that point.
I made Mama laugh, this morning. Mum and Nana are trying to con me into drinking cow’s milk out of a blue sippy cup – they think if I can’t see the colour of the liquid I won’t know what it is, for some reason. How dumb do they think I am?
They keep shoving this cup in front of my face and coaxing me to take a drink of “second best”. Sometimes I’ll deign to take a couple of sips just to mess with them. This morning I gulped down a bit and Nana got so excited. She did the happy dance in the kitchen and said “Good boy! Good boy!”
She stopped saying that, though, when I looked up and blew a giant milk raspberry straight into her face. Mama stopped short of saying “Good boy” to that, but I could tell she sort of wanted to because it was pretty funny, if I do say so myself.
There have been a couple of things that have happened these last weeks that didn’t make anyone laugh. I’m still traumatized by the memory of getting my three vaccinations. Mama said it was for my own good, but that doesn’t make any sense at all. What sort of world is this if painful things are good for you? I’ll be asking you to explain this in person when we see you in Thailand this weekend, so do work on an answer to that one.
Also, remember when Mum fell down the front step nine weeks ago and sprained her ankle? It turns out she actually broke her ankle – the ligaments snapped the end off her fibula. Mama’s pretty bummed about this news, but I can tell that there’s also a tiny part of her that’s gratified there’s a valid reason for why her ankle still hurts a lot nine weeks down the track. The doctors say it’s too late to put it in a cast now. She just needs to strap it and it’ll have to heal as best it can.
Finally, no one’s laughing at my sleeping abilities, or lack thereof. I don’t understand why everyone’s so upset – every time I wake up someone’s always there and awake, so what’s the big deal if I want to wake up every hour or two and hold someone’s hand for a while? I’d also like to point out that some of this drama could perhaps be avoided if Mum put me to bed with her straight away instead of persisting on settling me by myself first and then taking me into bed with her at some point in the night.
Time for me to go and throw fridge magnets or pull books off shelves or jam my fingers in some cupboard somewhere. Oh, but before I do go – back on the topic of laughing – when you see Mum this weekend I highly recommend you find a picture of an elephant and point to it. She’ll wave her arm around like a trunk and make the most ridiculous noises. Highly entertaining.
Can’t wait to see you in Bangkok airport. Can’t wait to get back to Asia – the land of no grass. And can I just say that I’m really looking forward to hanging out with you at Bumrungrad hospital in Bangkok on Sunday? That’s my favorite place to spend time in Bangkok. Granted, I’ve never actually been anywhere else in Bangkok except that hospital, but it’s a pretty kick ass hospital. Good times.
Lots of love,
Dominic
PS, here’s a short video of me making those elephant noises. Or something.
