Dear Jonas:

i have a confession to make. This evening you were beside yourself. You are teething again, so you have a little fever sometimes and a lot of drool. You have less of an appetite and, quite frankly, you cry a lot. In fact, every once and a while you do something i would almost call a tantrum. You had a needy day, and wanted to be held a lot, and grabbed ahold of my legs when you wanted to walk somewhere with me. You usually have a fantastic sense of humor and laugh easily. Funny noises and goofy faces provoke you to belly laughs, and the cats crack you up. These are the things i was thinking (Jonas is tired, Jonas likes animals, Jonas is funny) when i did what i did.

i sat you next to me on the couch and turned on the TV and started flipping through the Netflix instant cue, thinking that the sound of a movie in the background might help you stop crying. i wasn't intending to actually have you watch something, but then i saw it. Jonas, tonight you actually watched about half of a movie. That's exciting, right? The lame part of this event? It was Beverly Hills Chihuahua. For the record, you didn't laugh once. You watched. Quietly. But you were not impressed.