Dear Z,
You are 18 months old today.
Sometime very soon, I will stop referring to your age like it's a high school relationship. Sometime soon, I will say you are 2 years old and then 2 and a half and then all of sudden you'll be in (real) school and then moving away and having your own life so totally separate from us. (All of that sappy, you're-growing-up-too-fast blather helps mollify the mounting dread at your inevitably increasing defiance. It helps to think that the passage of time is actually really, really fast. You will not be this small- and the parenting this intense -for very long. Um, right?)
At 18 months, you are big into your books, Sweet Dog, Dolly, all your stuffed animals and, lately, brooms. The dust brush and dustpan are getting a bigger workout then they've had in their whole life.
You are quite the flirt and love to bat your eyelashes and smile sideways at men, especially your uncles. It's so overt it's almost silly but it makes me strangely proud of you. (Okay, fine. Your poop sometimes makes me proud of you. I'm easily.... improuded.)
You're a big collector these days; seeds mostly. You cram as many into your fists as you can and relinquish them to my pockets only when you are convinced you can truly hold no more.
You crack yourself up often and get into crazy moods, mostly when we're playing with Sweet Dog or when you're flopping into pillows in the living room, over and over again.
Your world is exploding in front of our eyes and it's quite a wild ride. New words are coming to you every day which excites us all greatly. (Yesterday you said "Emma" when you saw your new friend and we all got so excited you said it over and over again all day long). You can literally see your chest swell with pride when you're understood.
Can you see our chests swell with pride as well?
love,
Your Clueless But Hopeful Mama
1 comment:
what is it with toddlers and dustpans? they have a play one at our playgroup that P is obsessed with (uses it to brush baby doll's hair too)
phoebe's new thing is to laugh wholeheartedly, somewhat silently, tossing her head back then throwing the upper half of her body forward as if she has just seen the funniest thing in the world. She especially loves to do this as she walks by all the people on the treadmills at the gym in our building. Poor people working out, as if walking on the treadmill wasn't awkward enough, you gotta have a 17-month-old laughing and staring at you the whole time.
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