a way with words

one of the best ways to become aware of a special talent one of your children has is when that special talent comes up in a conversation among adult friends at dinner.  one recent saturday chris and i joined three other couples at a restaurant, and while we did discuss non-child-related topics, the talk turned, inevitably, to our kids.  the most surprising thing we wound up chatting about?  susanna's unique letter writing ability.

susanna sent out her birthday party thank you notes within the last few weeks, and it seems that how she expressed her gratitude made a lasting memory on the recipients (and their mothers.)  meg and her daughter polly learned that their book store gift card was quite the windfall to susanna.  meg said that susanna's exact wording was, "$15.00 is, like, a TON OF MONEY!"  (so not only can i not get her to stop saying "like", she apparently likes to use it in her writing as well.  the all-caps and underlining were also all her.)  amy couldn't remember lily's card verbatim, but reported that it was along the lines of  "i would normally explain in this note how much i've used the shrinky dinks you gave me, but of course you saw them yourself when we went to the beach so i don't have to." 

i realized, after hearing these stories, that i probably should at least glance at these gems before sealing them in their envelopes and sticking them in the mailbox.  with her tendency towards brutal honesty when armed with a pencil and stationery, who knows what she might write?  and what a timely lesson this turned out to be.

our dear friends the basses recently lost their fourteen-year old dog holly, and i bought a condolences card to send them.  chris, liam, and i all wrote heartfelt messages of sorrow and sympathy, having just been through a similar loss with our own pooch back in the fall.  susanna was the last to sign it, but  seemed stumped as to what to say.  she looked up at me and asked what had happened.  "it was really similar to super," i explained.  "holly just got really old and sick, so they had to put her down."  she nodded with understanding and turned back to the task at hand.

but before i slid the card in its envelope to lick it shut, i knew, this time, to read it.  and i immediately wished i hadn't.  

in case it's hard to read:  "Dear Basses, I heard that your dog passed away.  It must have been very hard to let the doter [doctor] kill her.  I bet know you miss her very much.  Love, Susanna"

i was horrified.  should i have her erase it?  oh wait -- she wrote in ink.  should i have her add on something a bit more sentimental?  should i buy another card?  should i apologize on the envelope, to soften the blow before they opened it?  ultimately, i just decided to give it to lainey in person when we saw each other at book club, with a warning for when she brought it home to read it.  i figured that the basses are susanna's godparents; they have to love her whether she has any sense of tact or not.    

i got an email from lainey later that evening.  "Thank you for your sweet card!  I laughed out loud when I read Susanna's sentiments : ) Don't know that I've ever laughed while reading a sympathy card!  It was just the medicine I needed."  in fact, when i told her that i might mention it in a blog post, it was she who took the picture of the card for me to use.  weeks after the fact, and they've hung onto this literary treasure; it still brings a smile to their faces. 

so maybe susanna knows what she's doing after all.