Twenty two months
October 25, 2006
We are quickly approaching your second birthday and as cliche as it sounds your father and I frequently look at each other and say, “Wow, where did these two years go?”
I have been trying to teach you to answer “two” when asked your age. But you just laugh and say, “Fwee. My fwee.” And then you laugh and hold up all five fingers on your hand. Clearly you are genius material or else telling me your suggested retail value. Hard to tell.
This past month you have begun forming sentences. Mostly they relate to your ownership of things around you, whether or not they actually belong to you is a completely different matter. Your speech isn’t that clear to anyone who isn’t familiar with toddlerese.
“My wan DAT.”
COCK-ees (cookies, or crackers)
choo-choo-wain (choo-choo train)
side (out side)
bar (granola bars)
shhhhhh (stop talking right now)
These are some that immediately come to mind. You also love to shout an enthusiastic “whoa” and “wow” whenever you think it is appropriate. You sit in the first row of the van in the center so you have a perfect view of the road and my driving. Sometimes we will drive around a corner and you will scream, “whoa” and as I look at you in the rear view mirror you are very dramatically clutching onto the arm rests of your carseat. It cracks me up every single time.
You adore your sister and follow her around everywhere she goes. She is kind to you, but mostly tolerates your adoration the way a movie star does a stalking fan. I told her how much I thought you loved her and she said, “I love my Mini-mini-moo-moo. But I love chocolate better.” Don’t be offended, that is quite a compliment. I feel confident that should we dip you in chocolate you would move to the top of the list.
The other day I walked into the pantry to discover that someone had dropped the marker to the whiteboard on the floor and left it there. At which point I can only surmise you came along, saw it there, and thought it was your lucky day. Every surface under 36″ was colored with black swirls. You even opened the cabinet doors and colored on the inside of them.
I stood there and shouted, “WHO DID THIS!?!” (meaning who dropped the damn marker, I was pretty sure I knew who did the drawing) It was mostly a rhetorical question that I like to shout right before my head spins around on my shoulders.
Everyone came running to see what had happened and who was in trouble. You were at the front of the pack, running with your arm in the air, shouting, “Meeeee. My do it!”
When you stopped in front of me, I looked down and said, “Who did this?” You waved your raised hand and shouted, “Meeee!” then you clapped for yourself. Everyone laughed.
In the past couple of weeks you have decided that you do not to sleep. Oh how you cry when I say it is bedtime, even though most of the time you fall asleep before I even leave the room. Your newest thing is to wake up in the middle of the night and scream. two nights ago Rob got up to comfort you and tuck you back in. You humored him with you silence for a few minutes before you began shouting, “ma-MA. ma-MA”
It was also a lesson for me to allow your father to comfort you and not immediately jump up and tend to you myself or shout directives at him. In the end you got your way and ended up in bed with us where you proceeded to lay all 28 lbs of your body mass on my chest and fall fast asleep. I, on the other hand, tried to continue breathing. I should have this parenting thing mastered by the time I am a grandparent.
You love music and anytime a commercial with music comes on tv you get so excited and scream, “DAN! DAN!” And then you will stand in front of the tv and dance your heart out. The fact that you come from a long line of helplessly white rythmn challenged people doesn’t deter you.
Last night we were sitting together on the couch watching tv right before your bedtime. It is our nightly ritual to snuggle together while you drink your bottle of rice milk. I know you are old enough to drop the bottle, but, well, you are my baby and I see no need to rush things. Rob was away on a business trip so I had control of the remote and took the opportunity to watch all the HGTV shows I could stand. As I flipped through the channels we caught a glimpse of a baseball game. You began shouting, “BAY-ball. BAY-ball” with such furor that I imagine you were convinced I hadn’t seen it. Afterall, who in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to watch baseball. When I didn’t turn the channel back you sulked for a few minutes, muttering, “ma-MA BAY-ball”
You are getting so big and yet in the grand scheme of things you are still so very small.
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