Today you are twenty months old. It’s also St. Patrick’s Day. It seems only fitting we celebrate this with a beer or nine. Actually, we’d be driven to that anyway given your recent level of activity and mischievousness. The other day you were playing in my makeup drawer – or rather, I was letting you play in my makeup drawer so that I might get five minutes of time to get myself together before you slobbered all over me again – and you found a favorite Laura Mercier Secret Camouflage concealer that I lurrrvvv. The last thing I recall is you running out of the room with it.
I haven’t seen it since. You owe me $28.00. Pay up. I need that to cover the dark circles under my eyes that YOU have contributed to.
The past few weeks have been filled with you trying so hard to say things that you truly believe you are saying – and are so proud to have said it – but we’re not quite there yet on most. You say “Daddy” really well. And apparently I am Daddy as well. So far we know that “beh-beh” is baby, “mee” is milk, “mmmm” is the moo sound of a cow, a monkey is “ooh-ooh, aah-aah” (totally cute) and “ma” is more.
You have fallen in love with a certain Sesame Street DVD that teaches letters and now can recognize the letter “B” – which just about floored me. You also love to sing along with Ernie and Bert for the La La song (or, Letter “L” for those of you playing the home game) and squeal every time it’s time for Cookie Monster to sing the “C” is for Cookie song.
For a while, Daddy has been dropping hints that maybe, just maybe, we should cut your hair. It’s only because Daddy has never had to deal with curls. And Daddy has seen what Mommy has had to deal with in terms of curls. It scares Daddy. Daddy fears The Curl. But, this month, he has slacked up on that request a bit. I believe your curls have charmed the pants right off of him (a fine look, I might add). And I think we’re just fine.
You continue to worship your big sister, Swimmy. You guys are often in trouble together for being Entirely Too Loud, which I’m sure will be your band name of choice later in life. You wait outside her bathroom hoping she will let you in while she’s in the tub. You wait outside her room while she changes clothes. When we drop her off at school in the morning you watch her walk all the way into the school wistfully wondering when you’ll see her again. It’s precious to watch you guys together – even if it sometimes requires Advil to soothe the pounding in my head.
Recently the weather has turned nice and we’ve had a chance to eat outside on our patio. We schlepped your chair out there and strapped you in with your hair blowing in the breeze and you thought this was the coolest thing ever. We did, too. And I hope it’s the beginning of a lot more times like that.
This month you have been assigned a job. You are the Keeper of the Keys. Whenever we go on our walks to the mailbox, you get to hold the mailbox key. It started out as a way to distract you so that you would actually hold my hand to walk down there. Now it is Your Responsibility and you take it Very Seriously. Along the way we point to the ducks, look at the grass and flowers and the occasional crazy dog or cat that passes by. We only have to walk about 5 houses, but for awhile it seemed to take forever. I have been working on being “present” for these little moments and it is making this time even more enjoyable.
The summer is coming up and lots of things are in store for you, Little Man. There will be swimming lessons and vacations with Dodi & Zayde and a new little playgroup for you somewhere along the way. We’ll keep working on your words but mostly we’ll just enjoy hanging out with you. Thanks for letting keep a little ray of sunshine in my pocket every day.
I love you –