Month Thirteen

Sweets, it is so hard to sit down and write this for you right now. We have just spent the last two hours battling, me trying to get you to sleep on time, you wanting to play, and being so overtired that you could barely walk straight, but still coherent enough to know when we go it your room, it means bedtime.

I guess that's one of the annoying and amazing transitions you've gone through this month. Your personality is not just blooming, it's exploding like a bag of firecrackers hit with a molotov cocktail, and true to form as a Gemini, one minute you are screaming like the world is going up in a riery ball of flames, and the next you are passed out on the bed between your Papa and I, the hair at your temples and the nape of your neck curling as it soaks in your own sweat, one arm thrown carelessly across your face (just like Papa) and one leg draped across my torso.

I think this whole Ms. Independence thing is partly because in the course of this month you've gone from an unsteady Grandpa walking with no ankle support and no cane to practically running. You have been climbing for a while now on the obvious, your picnic table, the couch pilows, and the radio cabinet, but now you have also discovered that something out of reach is *thatmuchcloser* if you pull a pillow over to stand on. Which means that where I used to only have to clean up dangerous objects two feet off the floor, I have to look much higher now, and I'm tired.

You are just too smart. We've been trying to teach you some sign langauge, hopefully to head off the sorts of melt-downs that occurred tonight, and you've already mastered "more," "hungry," and "water," and now we're working on "milk" so you stop smacking my boobs in public when you're hungry. And though you really don't talk much, mostly yelling "DADADADA" when I ask you oh-so-politely to say "Mama" I know you understand us pretty well, because you laugh hysterically when I tell you not to put the broken balloon in your mouth and you pop it in faster than that little Asian guy on TV eats hot dogs.

Ah, another Grandpa comparison? You've now got eight teeth up front, and two molars in the back. But between the four front teeth and the molars on the bottom, you're missing a tooth on each side, so it looks like you swallowed your bridge when you laugh. And you're still the most beautiful kid I've ever seen.

Due to some unfortunate circumstances this month, you were able to spend a lot of time with your Nonny, two of your great-aunts (Tina and Sherry) and with your Papa and I too. It was great to be home with you so much, but I was especially happy that you were able to spend basically a full week with your Aunts. They loved having you around, playing with you, feeding you, taking you to gymnastics. And my wish for you is that you develop a closer bond with your extended family that I did. I'm not good at keeping in touch, but I'm working on it, and I hope for your sake I do get better.

By the way, that "Please kidnap me!" sign on your forehead? You got that from your Papa. I don't know what has possessed you in the past few weeks, but you are the most outgoing child I've ever seen at your age. You walk right up to strangers and lift up your arms so they will hold you. You snuggle with strange men you've never seen before (Hi Mike!) resting your head on their shoulders like you really want them to take you home. Even walking down the street with the dogs, or shopping at Safeway, you are constantly stroking people's hair, waving "bye-bye," smiling, and generally asking to be stolen. We considered getting you micro-chipped, just in case you did get kidnapped, then they would know where to bring you when you were screaming hysterically before bedtime, arching your back like you really wanted to get dropped on your head, biting (oh yes, Love, you're a biter) and pimp-slapping anything within reach, which often includes a parent, a stranger, a dog, a toy... whatever. But Papa objected. Oh, well.

Thanks for making me laugh.

I love you,
Mommy