Month Twenty-Nine

Well Kiddo, looks like you are almost 2.5 years old, but I could swear you're turning twenty. First off, what's up with the memory? It used to be that I could promise you something, like ... "If you go to sleep now, we'll read Cinderella when you wake up!" And you'd sleep, and forget all about Cinderella. Now, the minute you wake up, you go get Cinderella and I have to read it, because I promised. Or how I told you that the chocolate chip pumpkin muffins were a snack, and not breakfast, lunch or dinner, and every time I ask you if you are hungry, you get a glint in your eye and ask for a snack. Smart kid, but I need to figure out another form of deception for you now.

Speaking of books, I'll apologize ahead of time if I've already ruined your social life by getting you addicted to books. Truthfully, I didn't read much to you when you were a baby, it was boring because I knew you didn't know what I was saying, and books for that age group are a bit...dry. So I'd read you my murder mysteries out loud so when your pediatrician asked if I read to you, I could honestly say 'yes' without elaborating. And also, you were more interested in eating them than reading back then, so hey, I did what worked for both of us. But I rearranged your room recently (nesting, one day you will know that drama it can cause) and now your books are all at your level, and you are in heaven.

When you wake up from your naps or in the morning, we don't hear a peep from you unless you are reading out loud to your pony or one of your dolls. Mostly though we'll find you in your bed with a pile of books, in the dark, flipping through the pictures and mumbling a story line, happy as can be all by yourself. I love it. I remember staying up for hours reading when I was a kid and the joy and escape that it brought to me, as well as the trouble it ultimately kept me out of. So I hope that you retain your love of literature, and that you let if expand past fiction to a love of books of all things, past and present, real and make-believe.

I've been on maternity leave for 2 weeks now, and aside from being laid up with a cold and stomach flu, and the obsessive cleaning and organizing that I've been doing, we're having a blast. Lots of play dates, coffee shop stops, shopping, and of course reading tons of books. We've been cooking together, and you are becoming a pro at stirring (and 'tasting' when my back is turned) and I still can't get over what a love-bug you are. You are also getting much more comfortable with starngers, playing peek-a-boo with people behind us when we are in line at the store and waving hi and bye to the neighbors you previously ignored.

You've also become quite a protector for mommy, and it's not your job to take care of me, but it is cute to see you try. Like when I get frustrated with the dog, you'll pick Rosco up and carry him out of the room, then shut the door. Or try to help me put on my shoes because it's so hard to bend over with a huge belly right now. You get the animal food from the cabinets for me, point out all the spiders for me to 'clean' and consistently tell me how to drive, from letting me know what the colors of the lights mean, to urging me "Mama, let's go!" when we are stuck behind a slower car.

Wait, back to the memory thing? You remember our full names and all of our birth dates. You remember what you were wearing the last time you saw someone a week ago, and ask to wear the same thing the next time you see them. It's almost weird how you seem to absorb everything, reminding me if Papa is at work or in class from one day to the next, based on what he tells you in the morning, or what to buy at the store. If I told you two days ago that on Saturday you would see Nana, when I tell you when it is Saturday, you'll ask to see Nana. Really, quite uncanny for your age.

I'm continually amazed at how grown up you are, but so completely innocent at the same time. I know I tell you a hundred times a day, but I love you with all my heart, and I can't imagine my life without you.

Love,
Mama