Monday, July 02, 2007

Twenty-Two Months: My Letter to Little Man

This month will forever be remembered as the month of the yogurt. Your plaintive cries of "Yayoo!" have been heard so often these last 30 days that the dairy council has begun to send us commission checks. On more than one occasion, I entered your room after your nap to have the first word out of your mouth be "yayoo???" No longer am I greeted with toddler gibberish of "hey lady, how's it going? I slept great! What'd you do? So anyway, I'm kind of a little hungry." Niceties are for suckers, after all, and if you can skip the being pleasant and go straight to the request, why wouldn't you? Of course, my Little Man, I should warn you that this attitude is probably the root of the thought process of history's most famous tyrants. I'm not judging, I'm just saying.



During this past month, you've also decided that sitting on your mother's lap during story time is about the lamest and most babyish thing one can do. And should I even suggest that we go back to you sitting on my lap, so that I don't have to try to read the book over your shoulder, you'll look at me and yell "NO!" in the same manner you speak to your dog when he has his mouth firmly entrenched around the goldfish cracker in your hand or when I make the stupid suggestion for you to quit whacking me in the face.



Your vocabulary has once again exploded this month, and now you actually string words together and say entire sentences. It freaking blows my mind, kid, because it seems like it was just two days ago that you called everything "Dada." How in the world are you that same kid as the one who spit up on me every two seconds and couldn't even hold its own head up? When now, you can solve a wooden puzzle in 30 seconds flat. With your eyes closed. And both hands tied behind your back. And you get basic grammar better than most people in the back woods of Kentucky do. Like if I say to you "You did it!", you'll respond with "Yes, I did it!" Sometimes I'll make you say random stuff just to see if it's my imagination, or if you're actually becoming a real human being and not just this creature whose body convulses when they're throwing a tantrum.

You also know all the basic colors now and whenever you don't know the name of something, you'll simply call it by its color, which will now be my strategy instead of my old one of using the word "thingie."



It's been raining here constantly this past month, to the point that just about the entire State of Texas is flooded. At first I thought this was a marketing stunt to promote the movie "Evan Almighty", which is about Noah's Ark. The rain wouldn't be so bad, except that it means that you can't go outside like you're used to doing. You'll stand in front of the back door and ask "ow-ssside?" And when I look at you, you'll repeat "OW-SSSSIDE?" and then say "YEEEEEES!" while nodding emphatically, which leads me to believe that when we put you to bed, you've been reading books about persuasion and subliminal tactics, but that you've yet to read past chapter one.



Yesterday, it looked like it was going to rain yet again, but we decided to head to the pool for a few minutes, figuring that if you didn't get out of the house, you'd begin to gnaw through the drywall to get yourself out. When we first got to the pool, you were amazed! "Water!" you exclaimed, because you've always been the observant one in the family.



We started you off with the toddler pool, and although you didn't seem sure at first, you quickly warmed up, and laughed at the squirting sprinklers and even let your dad take you in the water for a little while. As the clouds became darker over us, we decided to take you into the big pool for a few minutes, and we set you down on the first step. And that's when you flipped out. You wanted out like if we'd set you down in the fiery pits of hell.

No matter how much we held onto you in the water, you cried and wailed and shivered and wanted out. I took you out, wrapped you in a towel, and we sat on the side of the pool and watched your dad swim before the storm broke. There you were, snuggled in my lap, wrapped like a big burrito, talking to me. And even though I was sad that you are now afraid of the water, I loved those few minutes that I had to just hold you, because these days? You're usually too busy running around, pushing stuff, playing, doing all those toddler things than snuggle with your mom.



Not that you're not an extremely loving boy. You give the most amazing kisses and can say 'I love you' in both French and English now. And you've got this new thing you do, where you'll walk up to me, grab my face between your hands and lay a kiss on me. And then you won't remove yourself. Every single time, I end up laughing, which makes you laugh, which means that you then end up drooling in my mouth. Which I wouldn't say is the most pleasant experience of my life, but it's quite amusing, in a way that only parents can understand the humor of toddler drool and snot.

Your dad and I have been working on your big boy room this past month. It's pretty much done, and I expect that by the time I do the next update, you'll be sleeping in your toddler bed. Some people would think that 22 months is awful young to be moved out of a crib, but the thing is, I know you, and I know that you won't even try to get out of your bed. You've never even tried to climb out of your crib before, and you're always so reasonable about bed time. Last night, you wouldn't go to sleep, so we finally went to get you. Ends up that you'd pooped yourself, and really, who can go to sleep with poop in their diaper? I changed it, and I let you stay up for a little bit. After a few minutes, I asked you if you wanted to go to bed. You looked at me, nodded slowly and said "yeah."


I'm not even that mature about going to bed. Whenever your dad is out of town, I end up staying up until two in the morning, watching sitcoms and infomercials and kicking myself the next day for being so stupid. You, my sweet baby, are so much more advanced than I am, that I wonder at what point you'll be able to really explain to me why the sky is blue. Because I still don't get it.



Love,

Mama.

11 comments:

ohio blue eyes said...

thanks for the awesome video at the end...its good to hear so much laughter on a monday morning, plus I love to see dogs get harrassed by toddlers!
sweet letter!

Blue Momma said...

What a cute little boy! Such pretty blue eyes. I have my own blue eyed boy and know they are quite special. Even though potty training could almost make me reconsider....

monster's momma said...

I love that Satan's dog didn't give a rat's ass that Little Man gave him a (gentle) smack or two.

Holly said...

Hey. I've seen that plaid Izod shirt before! Glad to see it's being put to good use. We need to reschedule play time. I knew that mildly cold wind meant trouble...more rain. Love how he's just as into the hose as we are.

Julie said...

How can one child be so cute and smart?! His laugh in the video - adorable!

M said...

As always I'm left sniffling and dribbling as your monthly letters always do.

And more in love with your son than ever. In a non-stalker non-creepy-teacher non-freak kinda way. ;)

BTW: The only reason Liam doesn't own that EXACT same swimset is because they didn't have any big enough for his chunks the THREE TIMES I went to Old Navy. So, obviously, you're stalking my mind now while going for same items for kidfolk.

Kellie said...

*Sniff* Your letters make me teary with happy tears and laugh 'cause you're funny :)

LOVE the video--Satan's Dog and my Lab must share the same outlook on little people :)

I'm a Mom!..? said...

This makes me wish I were more diligent with the letters I've been MEANING to write!

random_mommy said...

Oh Catwoman, you and your sappy letters... LOVE 'EM!

Loukia said...

What a cutie he is! :)

Rachel said...

Your letters to Little Man always make me cry! So sweet. And he's getting so big.