Happy half birthday! Letter to Nate at 2 1/2 years old.

Dear Monkey,

Whenever you feel passionate about something, it always makes me daydream about your future career as an adult. For example, over the past month, I have become convinced that you will be a musician. You LOVE music. You want to know what every song is called, who sings it, what they are saying and sometimes even which CD it is on. You dance and now you even make up your own lyrics. Your cup of water, fist or empty paper towel roll make excellent microphones for your original songs. My favorite is a little ditty I like to call, "I Can't Help It." The lyrics are pretty much those words over and over again with some "oh baby"s thrown in there and some words that I don't understand. I'm guess that language is from your home planet. You're quite the performer. You already have a band name picked out and everything (such a waste that I didn't go into journalism, right?):

Your other new love is the telephone. You are obsessed with talking on the phone and beg me to call Gam, Bubba and Auntie Ariel everyday. You always have "four things" to tell them. The conversations often go really well. But I bet that they would be even more productive if you weren't running around the house with the phone, covering the mouthpiece and frequently speaking your native language. It makes it hard for me to interpret.

You seem less interested in arts and crafts and more interested in puzzles and reading lately. You've been "reading" to me lately, which I really enjoy. It helps that you have every book memorized. You love playing with word puzzles in particular and I think you now know the sound that every letter makes.  Or almost all of them. You still count into the teens and even have started to give good old number 7 a place in the line up again. We missed you, number 7. 

Still loving your sense of humor. The other day, as I went to take you out of the car seat, you asked me what was in the holes of your buckle. Before I could reply "worms," YOU told me worms. And when I told you that that was what I was going to say, you told me that I could say something else. Like rats.

Okay, well on second thought, let me say that most of the time I love your sense of humor. I was not a fan the other day when you thought it was funny to yell, "Gassy. Pee pee. Poop!" over and over again from the cart while we shopped at Target. Thanks for that one, Nate. I'll be sure to remember that when your first girlfriend comes over.

I love you, little bug. More than tongue can tell.

~Mommy

American Museum of Natural History

Last weekend, Nate took his second trip to the American Museum of Natural History.  He loved it the first time, when we took him last February, but of course he appreciated everything even more now that he was older. It's funny for me to read the post from last year. Although Nate has grown incredibly in a year, pretty much everything still applies. He was again, incredibly excited to press his little hands and face to the glass and check out all of the animals. Now of course, he runs even faster and was pulling Daddy by the hand while he ran from exhibit to exhibit. Last year he could sign dinosaur, and perhaps say the word, but now he says, "Tyrannosaurus Rex!"

The dinos were definitely the highlight for Nate. And I imagine running around the blue whale room like a maniac was pretty enjoyable too. As for me, I loved every minute I got to spend with our very good friends visiting from out of town. I think we'll have to make the trip to the museum a yearly tradition. 

Hall monitor

I may have already mentioned that I like to call Nate, The Hall Monitor, since he is quite fond of monitoring and then reporting on the behavior of others.

Meet the Hall Monitor

Usually, he informs on other children, telling me how they are misbehaving. He often seems outraged that others might hit, push or grab. Because, you know, he is ALWAYS an absolute angel (cough, cough). But today, he told his fingers, who were not sharing, "LISTEN. You don't gwab!"

He then swiftly gave the offending finger a time out:

Naughty finger.