an open letter to fritz | vol. 1

i’m taking the lead from heather, over at (she is hilarious, you should probably grab a beer and sit down for a good solid hour of laughing so hard you cry) and writing letters to fritz to let him know what he was like as a baby. like heather, i’m not sure how long this will last, but i think it’s an awesome idea and i’ve never been adverse to stealing.


dear fritz,

you just turned ten months old, and i have to be honest, you are kind of hilarious. you’ve started to stare off into space and just chuckle for no good reason. i always find myself enjoying it and then looking around to see what the hell you find so funny. sometimes you will do this and then turn to me or papa fritz and just open up your mouth in the largest grin, like we are in on the joke. we aren’t. please let us know what’s so funny.

8.16 tongue

you try to talk all the time now, and are mimicking what we say. it’s mostly just sounds, but i can tell you are trying to form words. sometimes you get annoyed and make a deep huffing sound. i find your impatience incredibly endearing, mainly because i’m just as impatient for you to start talking. i have no idea what goes on in that blonde head of yours, but i really want to.

you are desperately trying to walk and often drag papa fritz and i around the house to go “exploring” (though you’ve seen it all before, dozens and dozens of times). sometimes you will spontaneously let go of our hands, thinking—i can only presume—that you are in complete control of your lower extremities. you aren’t. please stop trying to scare me into an early grave. if there is a sharp object within a 12 mile radius you will find a way to bash your head against it, resulting in bruises on your forehead which no doubt leave the neighbors in question of my parenting skills. papa fritz and i have tried to baby-proof, but you are constantly beta testing—and failing—our efforts. thanks for the help.

you hate having your diaper changed, and guess what, we hate doing it! you squirm desperately to the side in an attempt to sit up and grab the sharpest item on your changing table (the nail clippers) and stick them in your mouth. never mind that when i attempt to trim your nails with them you act as though they carry the bubonic plague and slither in the other direction as quickly as possible.

you have the most frustrating habit of running your sticky food-covered hands through your hair when you eat, resulting in what is alternately referred to as flock-of-seagulls-hair or mad-scientist-hair depending on your styling. however, you make up for this by opening your mouth like a little baby bird when you eat, making “num” sounds, and looking around with a slight smile on your face while you masticate your pureed foods. this makes my heart melt. you have the most varied palate of any baby i’ve ever met, and this does your mama proud. the only thing i’ve ever given you that you didn’t like was a strawberry dipped in balsamic vinegar. admittedly, this was a bit out of your wheelhouse, but it should be noted that you also tried a green olive that night and loved it, so what’s a girl to think?

your favorite toys are a tiny plastic ‘little people’ suitcase that opens and a stuffed leek. i have no idea how they made the top of the list, but you love them. the suitcase, in particular, cures all ills. no matter what you are doing, if you see our cat, you turn in her direction and shriek something that sounds like “GIGGY!”, and then you flock to her and try to chew on her butt—oftentimes succeeding—so naturally she avoids you at all costs. you insist upon stepping on the dog, no matter where he is. secretly i applaud you for this becuse he’s been in my way for years too, but i’m not allowed to step on him because i know better. your favorite tv shows are the wonder pets, yo gabba gabba, and sesame street. you love elmo in a deep and pure way. every time you hear the theme song for any of these shows your face lights up and your head swivels toward the flat-screened god in the basement.

when you are sad or upset i sing you offering by the avett brothers, and 9 times out of 10 it calms you down. when i sing you look at me like i’m the best thing in the world, so i sing to you a lot.

that’s all for now, i can’t wait to see what you do next,

mama fritz


3 responses

  1. very funny and very sweet. I L.O.V.E. love the tongue out picture. It’s hilarious. He has a sense of humor already, you can tell. Which is good, since you are his mother!

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