For my grandchildren, I'd like better.
I'd really like for them to know about hand-me down clothes and homemade ice cream and leftover meatloaf sandwiches.

I really would. I hope you learn humility by being humiliated, and that you learn honesty by being cheated.

I hope you learn to make your bed and mow the lawn and wash the car.
And I really hope nobody gives you a brand new car when you are sixteen.

It will be good if at least one time you can see puppies born and your old dog put to sleep.

I hope you get a black eye fighting for something you believe in. I hope you have to share a bedroom with your younger brother.

And it's all right if you have to draw a line down the middle of the room,
but when he wants to crawl under the covers with you because he's scared,
I hope you let him.

When you want to see a movie and your little brother wants to tag along,
I hope you'll let him.

I hope you have to walk uphill to school with your friends and that you live in a town where you can do it safely.

On rainy days when you have to catch a ride, I hope you don't ask your 'driver' to drop you two blocks away
so you won't be seen riding with someone as uncool as your Mom.

If you want a slingshot, I hope your Dad teaches you how to make one instead of buying one.

I hope you learn to dig in the dirt and read books.

When you learn to use computers, I hope you also learn to add and subtract in your head.

I hope you get teased by your friends when you have your first crush on a girl,
and when you talk back to your mother that you learn what Ivory soap tastes like.

May you skin your knee climbing a mountain,

burn you hand on a stove and stick your tongue on a frozen flagpole.

I don't care if you try a beer once, but I hope you don't like it.

And if a friend offers you dope or a joint,
I hope you realize he is not your friend.

I sure hope you make time to sit on a porch with your Grandpa and go fishing with your Uncle.

May you feel sorrow at a funeral and joy during the holidays.

I hope your Mother punishes you when you throw a baseball through a neighbor's window

and that she hugs you and kisses you at Christmas time when you give her a plaster mold of your hand.

These things I wish for you - tough times and disappointment,
hard work and happiness.

To me, it's the only way to appreciate life.

Written with a pen. Sealed with a kiss.