Dearest Birdzonoius Maximus,
You used to go to sleep when I put you in your crib at night. You'd stick your thumb in your mouth, wrap your hands up in your blanket (which you've named "bim" and you drag around with you everywhere), and wave goodnight. But now, at the ripe old age of 25 months, you've started to bargain. And discuss.
"Hungry?" You say thoughtfully, putting your finger to your lips in deep thought, then, "How 'bout … Elmo crackers?"
"No Elmo crackers, Birdy. Time for bed."
"No bed!" Again with the finger to the lip. "How 'bout … um, rainbow song?"
At which point I climb into your crib, wrap you up in my arms, and we sing Somewhere Over the Rainbow together. And somehow, bed time ends up being delayed. Clever bird.
Birdy's version of "hide and seek." Spoiler: She's easily found.
Life is going by very quickly, my little friend, but you are picking up bits of knowledge every day. You have a very thorough understanding of what constitutes as "mommy's meh-cine," bringing me my Dexcom receiver when it beeps and watching me with a sidelong glance when I test my blood sugar. Sometimes even snacks are meh-cine, and there are moments when we both sit on the kitchen floor and chomp on fruit snacks - yours for fun and mine for necessity. When I reconnect my pump after I get out of the shower in the morning, you usually want to give it a kiss, like you somehow know it's important.
You also have adopted a certain plastic figurine as your new favorite item ... Larry Bird. Abby sent Larry to us a few months ago, and he's been a fixture in my office ever since. But somehow, he migrated upstairs, and you're smitten. Larry gets dragged everywhere - to the grocery store, to the playground, to your highchair, where you actively try to feed him spoonfuls of oatmeal. And sometimes you brush his teeth.
Watching you grow up and go from "baby" to "actual kid" has been an incredible journey (in which you are the cat and I'll be the lab and Daddy can be the terrier), and your discoveries bring me so much joy on a daily basis. You're fun to hang out with, Birdy, and I love getting to know your wild little personality.
"A, B, C, D, E, F, G," you sing loudly from your crib, far past when you should be asleep. "H, I, J ... louder? [As though someone asked.] Okay. A, B, C, D ..." and now you're at the top of your lungs.
You crack me up, kid.