One of the most delightful experiences of parenting was discovering handwritten notes tucked under our bedroom door. These little treasures were typically folded up and secured with tape, addressed specifically to either Mom or Dad, with a clear instruction that only the intended recipient should read them. Most of the time, they contained heartfelt complaints about the other parent. I would sip my coffee and settle in for the latest secret correspondence.
One memorable note from my son, Max, urged me to think for myself and stop listening to his father. He claimed it was unjust for Dad to send him to his room after calling him a “dork.” Max said it was meant to be funny, not offensive. He ended with a stern, “DO NOT show this to Dad.”
When we traveled, I often received sweet little messages. “I’ll miss you, but I hope you have a great time! Don’t forget about me.” Each note featured a drawing or a picture for us to cherish.
Another note, clearly marked “Dad Only,” proposed a new allowance strategy: “Mom wants us to do chores while you just give us money. Let’s keep it between us that you’ll handle the allowance. Mom can do the chores. DO NOT show this to Mom.”
As the kids grew older, the notes continued to roll in—often filled with apologies. “Mom, I’m sorry I was rude, but you ask too many questions. I’m practically grown up and should be allowed to stay out late with friends. Am I still grounded? I said I was sorry.”
“Dad is so unfair! Everyone skips school. It’s part of growing up. I shouldn’t miss the dance just for that. Love you, Mom. Please help me reason with Dad. DO NOT show this note to Dad.”
“Dad, I didn’t mean to sneak out last night. I was just outside, and before I knew it, I was locked out. My friend just helped me back in, and we were on the sofa to keep warm. Mom thought we were being inappropriate and sent him home. Not cool! Please tell her I’d never do that while you guys were asleep. DO NOT show this note to Mom.”
“Mom, there’s a boy named Jake sleeping on our couch. He had a fight with his mom and needed a place to stay. He’s nice, and it’s freezing outside. Please don’t wake him. Let Dad know, too.”
“Dad, I apologize for calling you a jerk. You’re a great father. Sometimes, though, you act like one. I’ll remember that next time. DO NOT tell Mom.”
“Living here is tough. Between homework, sports, and chores, I’m overwhelmed. If you’re wondering why I’m grumpy, that’s it. Can you write a note to school saying I have the measles? I’d love to stay home for a week. Ask Dad to sign it, too. Love you!”
“I wish you hadn’t married Dad. Why couldn’t you have picked someone fun? I’m so over cleaning my room to his standards. It’s my life, and I want to keep it messy if I choose!”
“Oh, and by the way, I think there’s a mouse in my room. Can you ask Dad to catch it, please?”
Now that they’ve all grown up, I genuinely miss those notes. I’m not sure if I should let them know how much I cherished those moments.
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In summary, those handwritten notes were a unique window into my children’s thoughts and feelings, and they added a touch of humor and nostalgia to our family life.
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