I know I’m supposed to be happy for you right now. You are the apple martini of my eye, and I want nothing but the best for my little munchkin, but I’ve always been a selfish bitch, and that didn’t change just because I’m obsessed with you. I’m just going to come out and say it: I DON’T WANT YOU TO GET A LITTLE. I’m Big, you’re Little. I’m right, you’re wrong and there’s nothing you can do about it. And I know you caught that Matilda reference because you’re perfect. Ugh, but apparently there is something you can do about it, and from the looks of things, you’re doing it.
I just don’t understand. What do you need a Little for anyway? Craft for me! Craft with me. Craft about me. MEEEEEEE. Is it my fault? Is it because I didn’t give you my off-the-shoulder lettered sweatshirt? You can have it! As long as you let me borrow it…until I graduate. Actually, it looks better on me, I was just protecting you. That still doesn’t seem like a reason for you to do this to me! Am I not good enough for you? Did I not give you the best make-him-miss-you-while-making-his-new-girlfriend-jealous-while-pretending-you-don’t-care advice ever? If I could go back and put bleach in her shampoo, well, I still wouldn’t, but I would wish her a bad dye job with all my might.
It was supposed to be me and you, together forever. I watched you grow up, and throw up. I remember your first non-words via drunken text-bomb. I watched you
learn forget how to walk. I dropped you off at your first meeting with standards (and you never knew, but I didn’t really go for a Starbucks run while you were there, I waited for you the whole time). I nursed you back to health after Crush Party. And now you’re just going to leave me?!
I know you think you love me, but the love a little has for her big is only surpassed by the love a big has for her little. I’m jealous, okay? I know that I’m obviously incredible and unforgettable, but I’m still afraid you’ll forget about me. I don’t want you sending your Sunday morning regret texts to someone else. I don’t want to have to share you every time we have a lunch date, followed by a mani-pedi, followed by a snugglefest and I certainly don’t want you to have that with someone else. I mean do you even know this new girl? Is she really going to fit in? How could you know? Let’s give it another year, just to be sure.
I know it’s not realistic, because you’re obviously every new girl’s dream-big (I obvi raised you right), but I can’t help it. I love you to pieces and I want you all to myself. But I guess I’ll allow this, because I really do want you to find a little who is as perfect and precious to you as you are to me, but I have some conditions:
1. You do not, under any circumstances, tell her where her left shoes are during Big/Little week. I promised your g-big I wouldn’t tell you where yours were when she hid them from you, and I did it anyway. You do not defy me.
2. She has to be pretty and she has to look just like us.
3. We can do family dinners and pregames, but I still get Big/Little days with you.
4. You MUST let me sign off on her.
5. You will allow one drunken cry-fest regarding the issue, buy me Chik-Fil-A, and refrain from holding any of the embarrassing things I did that night over my head, no matter how badly you want to do so.
I’m sure I’ll love her because I love you, but I’m even more sure that I’m about to get very drunk to cope with this.
Don’t forget to stock up on confetti.