Month Twenty

Hey Sweets, Happy twenty-month birthday!

At this exact moment, you are in the bathroom, wrapped up in a towel while your Papa brushes your teeth. In a second, he'll bring you in here so I can hold you while he puts your lotion on. Then it's butt-cream, oatmeal, Goodnight Moon, milk, and sleep.

Ah.

Of course if anyone heard you telling them your bedtime routine, it would sound more like: "bu-creeeeem," "o-meeeee," "booooog," "te-te," and "noni." A friend asked me the other day if "memo" was Spanish or Guarani. At first I had no idea what she was talking about until I realized she was trying to figure out what language you say tomato in.. which is toddlerese, I guess? "Memo" is tomato, "boo-bee" is blueberry, and "coco" is bird, but I think most other things you say are pretty clear, and Darling, you are a chatter box. On the say to Safeway this afternoon, you were yelling "Coco!" every few second when one flew through the sky.

You also aren't quite over Happy Birthday yet, and now instead of just "happy" you also sing along to the "birthday to you," and the name of whoever it is. Normally Taryn, sometimes Boogie, and in the last few days "Tio." Everyone is Tio now, La Tia, the neighbor, pretty much anyone you don't have another name for.

Gymnastics is over for a few months, and the last day of class you were giving everyone hugs and a kiss for teacher Michele. For the most part, you are pretty shy right now, hanging back when we get in a crowd of people that you don't know. But within 10 or 15 minutes, you are running around with the kids like you've know each other your entire lives. Sort of like Mama. And my wish for you this month is that you retain that watchfulness, but don't let it interfere with your social development.

Holy smokes, Batman! I almost forgot that you jumped out of your crib too! Well, I don't know if you actually intentionally jumped, maybe more like the weight of your massive brain dragged the rest of your body to the floor after it one night (and we don't even have carpet, sorry Love). But I am glad to say, and knocking on wood, you haven't tried it again. Unlike your Buddy Jackson, who is a regular Evil Knievel, and now gets a head start of his Houdini act and jungle-mosquito-netting survival skills since he's been given a challenge in his crib. A nice big white netted one.

Aside from that leap of faith, you've also been at the grown-up table for a few weeks, sitting on a couch pillow to eat dinner with your real metal fork and spoon, and ladybug dish set. Too cute for words, except I started taking pictures of you eating oatmeal one morning (and a pint of "boo-bees" afterwards, and when I started to put the camera away, you refused to eat until I took more pictures of you. I don't know what kind of monster I've created, but a few days before that I told you to show Papa your new belt, and you strutted over to him, turn around, jutted one hip out and put your hand on it like, "Look, I know I'm cute, just say it."

Ohmigod. And you haven't even hit two yet. You've got over 50 words in 3 languages, plus a bunch of signs. Impressive, especially since a lot of them I don't even know. Like I say every month, every week, pretty much every day, you continue to amaze me with how superbly intelligent you are, how loving, kind, generous, what a good dancer, and a good listener, and how all around incredible you are. I love you more than I ever thought possible, you have been the most wonderful blessing I could have ever been given.

I love you.
Mommy