Dear Bug,
Well, here we are. You are two years old, or as you like to tell us, "I'm almost two!" Insert: big, cheesy toddler grin. I keep reminding you that you ARE two, not almost two anymore, and you just laugh and say it again and again. "I'm almost two!" You silly goose.
I have sat down so many times to write your letters, and as we have creeped closer and closer to two, I have found it harder to put our days into words. I feel like listing your accomplishments isn't adequate; it doesn't capture you, the person you are becoming, or your funny little attitude. It doesn't capture the way you roll your eyes and repeat yourself when I ask you to use your manners, "Please in a noooormal voice," or how you beam when you figure out how to do something by yourself. Written words don't capture the way you say "That. Is. Beautiful!" or "Here you go Mommy, that's for you! Need to share!" How you give us a running commentary of your day, not only in summary but as a play-by-play as well. "I'm digging in the dirt! Using my thumb! I'm SO DIRTY!" "Need to garden." "I'm riding my tricycle!" Better yet, words can't capture your insane sense of style. How you insist on matching, even if what you think matches doesn't quite work. "Need a headband, be riiiiiight back!" "This one matches my outfit! Need shoes to match my outfit." I want to remember that every day when your Daddy comes home from work and changes out of his work clothes, you insist on changing too. Not just because he's changing, but because you need to match him. How if I wear purple shoes, you need purple shoes. How if one of your friends has a bow in, you need a bow too. How if you're wearing a tutu, Ellie needs a tutu. "Need to match Dada! Dada has blue sweatshirt, Lily has a blue sweatshirt!"
A letter isn't eloquent enough, exciting enough - thorough enough - to let you know how much joy you bring to our lives each and every day. You can't hear your little voice insisting that your rain boots are not rain boots, they are "reindeer boots." That all bread products are muffins, all babies are Baby Wyatt or Baby Gage, or how you say, "Excuse me, puppies!" when the dogs are in your way. A letter can't truly capture how you screech "Princess ANNA! Princess ELSA!" every time you hear a song from Frozen come onto the radio. It can't recreate the image of you sprinting into the living room when "Let It Go" starts playing, how you stomped your foot and acted out the castle-building scene, complete with slow arm-raises and fake snowflakes bursting out of your hands. How you sing to yourself all of the time, but you only know a verse or two, so you just trill the same lines over and over to a different tune.
Most important to me, a letter isn't going to remind us how every night, we hear you close your door and pitter patter down the hall some time after midnight. How you try to sneak into our room, tiptoe up to the bed, and whisper, "Hi Mama... Snuggle you? Need to snuggle you." It's not going to remind us how you scream and cry when we take you back to your bed, insisting repeatedly, "Need to snuggle yooooouuuu!" How when we crawl in with you, you grab on for dear life and snuggle in, falling almost immediately back into a deep sleep. How you just want company. A letter isn't going to remind us that at the end of every day, all you want is to be near us. To snuggle. To hug. To love on your Mommy and Daddy. A letter just isn't enough. It's not.
I say it every month, every day - every minute it seems like - but the last few months have flown by. Our days are busier yet also more structured. Our weekends are just as crazy as always, but also seem to be a bit more laid-back now that you are older and more flexible. You have turned into a little person overnight. A little talking, running, screaming, laughing, joke-playing person. You are independent yet also still so dependent. You are insanely busy, but also seem to finally enjoy "relaxing" (albeit sporadically.) You still hate to sleep. You know your shapes, colors, and can (sometimes) count to 20. You can count to ten in Spanish! You love to take care of your babies, giving them baths, feeding them, rocking them, or taking them for walks in your doll stroller. You love to cook in your kitchen - your favorite thing is to make me "chocolate broccoli soup." Where you came up with that, I have no idea, but you're a big fan of all sorts of soup, pretend and real. You love princesses and castles, building lego towers, and playing outside. You love to help, you love to eat, and you love to color. You absolutely love going to Tyke Town (the childcare at the gym), and you love your friends. Ellie "Jo Jo" is your "very best friend." You have almost all of your books memorized and your favorite thing to do is "read" by yourself in your bed or teepee. The fact that you have the correct words memorized to the appropriate pages amazes me - I can walk by while you're "reading" and you usually are on the right page for what story you're reciting. You have a crazy attention span when it comes to books - we could read for hours and hours, and you wouldn't get sick of it. In fact, when you don't want to take a nap, you will happily read in bed for over an hour by yourself! It is so nice to be able to give you that break during the day. Mommy's not the only one who needs to recharge, you do too!
Your biggest pre-turning two accomplishment? You are mostly daytime potty-trained! For safety's sake, you still get a diaper overnight, but you have had very few accidents and are so proud to be such a big girl. Interestingly enough, the potty-training actually coincided with you weaning yourself. About a month before your birthday, you started asking Daddy to do bedtime. Sometimes you would ask for "Mommy milk" after books and snuggle time with Dada, but then you just kind of stopped. A few days went by and you stopped asking for me and only wanted Daddy. We have had a few instances where you've randomly asked for it and had a meltdown, but I have reminded you that it's all gone, and you calm down and snuggle with me instead. A part of me is sad to see that part of our relationship end, but I'm not complaining about the extra snuggles. Plus your Daddy is so happy to be wanted more - in fact, you've pretty much rejected me completely for bed time! After almost two years of Mom-or-bust, he is loving being such an important part of your day. Even if he's exhausted, I think he smiles to himself every time you holler, "No! DADDY do bedtime!"
Oh sweet girl, you are a daily lesson in opposites, as any Mom of a toddler can tell you. I know in the next few months, I'm going to learn more about you, about me, and about our relationship. While two is hardly a piece of cake, it's definitely easier in it's own way. You can walk, you can talk, you can communicate. You are full of love and laughter, sharing and giving, obstinacy and determination, caution and bravery; best of all, you are chock full of absolute silliness. I can only hope that you pass some of those wonderful personality traits on to your new brother or sister come fall. I know it'll be our next big adventure, and you'll be an amazing big sister - you're already so excited. You have a Big Sister book and every time we read it, you interrupt whomever is reading to remind them repeatedly, "Daddy! Daddy! I'm going to be a big sister!" Yes, yes you are, little Bug - but you'll always be my first baby.
Love always,
Momma
Two-year stats...
Weight: 28 pounds, 4 ounces (75%)
Height: 35.5 inches (90-95%)
Head Circumference: 19.75 inches (>95-100%)
Clothing Size: 2T and 3T, size 8/9 shoe (depending on the shoe)
New Nicknames: Toots McGee, Little Monkey, Goose
Favorites: Being outside, Tyke Town, "playing with my friends", climbing - especially rock walls, going to the park, singing, dancing, spinning, jumping.
Milestones: Fully potty-trained, pigtails!, being promoted to Big Sister this fall
No comments:
Post a Comment