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Why I Can’t Connect with Other Adults Anymore
The other day, my friend Lisa rushed up to me at a gathering, asked a quick question, and darted off to chase after her two-year-old. She felt bad, thinking she might have come off as rude. Honestly, I couldn’t even remember what she asked, let alone if I answered.
You see, I have a two-year-old as well, and let’s just say he’s a major CB—no, not that kind! I mean a Conversation Blocker. Seriously, I can’t recall the last time I managed to finish a conversation or even a sentence when he’s around. Over the past couple of years, I’m pretty sure I’ve lost touch with at least five to 85 people who now probably think I have some severe case of adult-onset ADD or that I’m perpetually on the verge of a mini stroke. I can’t complete a thought to save my life. I repeat myself, I walk away mid-sentence, or I just disappear, leaving others wondering if I’ve been abducted by aliens.
If something isn’t written down in big, bold letters with flashing lights, it’s gone from my memory. So, here’s my heartfelt apology.
Dear (insert your name here),
I’m really sorry. I genuinely apologize for that moment when you were sharing something meaningful about your week, and my little one decided it was the perfect time to announce a major diaper situation to everyone within a 280-mile radius.
I’m sorry that while we were diving into serious topics—real estate, politics, or even the latest Netflix series—my toddler was yelling “Mommy!” at the top of his lungs like he just won the lottery.
And let’s not forget those moments when we were catching up on life, and he insisted he was starving, as if I hadn’t fed him in days! By the time I finally got him that snack, I completely forgot what we were discussing. It’s like our conversation vanished into a secret vault that only toddlers can enter.
I apologize that the friend, sister, daughter, or cousin you once knew who could listen without distraction now feels like a hyper puppy who just spotted a squirrel.
This is in no way a reflection of how I feel about you. It’s just me, oh no, my kid is throwing sand again, wait—is he under the water? How did he get up by the playground so quickly? HEY, what’s that in your mouth? Is it food? Okay, sorry, what was I saying? And this is exactly what I mean.
Just know that I miss you, and I promise that when my child is 33, we can finally sit down and catch up on everything you’ve been up to. Until then, it’s going to be a wild ride. So, I guess I’ll see you in 30 years—I’m surrendering to the toddler life!
With my deepest apologies,
Me
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Summary
This humorous piece reflects on the struggles of maintaining adult conversations while managing a toddler. The author apologizes to friends for the interruptions caused by their child’s antics, acknowledging the challenges of parenthood and the resulting distractions.