Personality? You have it. And strong will?
Oh shit, you have that, too.
Kid, you’re a hot ticket (as my grammie used to say). You are deeeeep into what some might call The Terrible Twos and I would call them that but you’re not yet two and you’re also not terrible but I think you’re testing me to see if the last nerves you like to gnaw on will eventually snap.
Your cutes are super cute to me. Like whenever you ask for something, you say “Please?” And then when you are given something, you say “Thank you!” and I say, “You’re welcome!” and, not to be outdone, you say, “Love you!” This is adorable at home. This is somehow even more adorable at places like the pharmacy, where you’ve professed your adoration for the lady offering handcream samples.
When you pretend feed your stuffed animals? You always, always, ALWAYS make them fake burp afterwards. “Mmmm!” says the little lion as it chomps on its lion food. “BURP!” says the little lion afterwards. The stuffed critters in our house are apparently quite gassy.
You love the book Love You Forever. Before bed one night, I asked you what book you wanted to read and you went nuts looking for the “Potty? Potty?” book. It took me several minutes to figure out that you wanted to read the big book with the giant toilet on the front … Love You Forever.
And your moments of chaos are super chaotic. In the last few weeks, you grew. You grew and you grew and you grew. You grew so much that you pulled all the books out of the bookshelves and stuffed all your stuffed animals into the wine fridge and took your mommy’s pump and tried to throw it into the toilet.
Sometimes I feel like I live in a zoo.
You throw food. I LOVE YOU but I do not love this habit. We know you’re done eating grapes when they go sailing across the kitchen table. No more green beans? They make an arc into the cat food bowl. Done with your spaghetti? It flies like an airborne squid until it lands with a slap on the kitchen floor. When I lean in and make eye contact with you, insisting, “No …” you reach your hand ever-so-slowly to the side, cheese in hand, and lock eyes with me as you pitch it to the floor. It’s a battle of wills. And you’re winning. I don’t know how to break you of this habit but in related news, the floor is mopped at least twice a day and is super freaking clean right now.
You also like to switch gears mid-activity. Like you want to go “zoom zoom” (aka ride your scooter) but you’ll hop off in the middle of a glide to go inspect a “booty” (aka birdy) with your helmet still on, and then you want to go around the neighborhood and open everyone’s mailboxes. (I told you this is not the best idea and no you cannot put dandelions in everyone’s mailboxes they will not appreciate that please stop eating their driveway rocks.)
You’re busy. And active. You live BIG. Your life is FUN. You’re loud and you yell, “I WUV YOU!” and then jump off the coffee table. Loopy does not know what to do with you but old and grouchy Siah secretly loves you and wants to curl around the block towers that you build (and smash). You talk up a storm and when you’re done, a quick “no more, no more” is issued and you move on to the next target. Watching you devour the world is seriously the most entertaining thing I could ever do. You like to party.
And when you’re asleep? You’re asleep. I can sneak in (I do not crawl across the floor because that’s creepy af and did that old lady seriously drive across town with a ladder on the roof of her station wagon – if this does not make sense, go read Love You Forever.) and pick you up and give you a snuggle at midnight. You cuddle right into my neck and it’s so nice to hold you. In the morning, you’ll wake up in a flurry of chaos and ask, “Mommy? Wheh aaaaaaah you?” until I go in to rescue you from your crib, and we start another day of learning, running, and playing. And throwing food. And chasing the cats. And all the other stuff my little almost two will do.
Slow down, kid. Mostly so I can enjoy your littleness but also, I need like two seconds to catch my breath.
Love you so much, you silly boy.