Thursday, May 12, 2011

Letter to my 21 month old monkey

Dear Nate,

Honestly, I've started to think of you as a two year old in my head already. (A) I'm tired of counting the months at this point and (2) maybe when you actually turn two it won't be quite so painful in a "my baby really isn't a baby anymore" kind of way.

But of course it goes without saying that you'll always be my baby. Cliche but true.

Not a lot of changes this month. Just some counting. And more talking. Lots more talking. Sometimes four words to a sentence. And more running. And a little bit of big boy potty action. Oh, and you are getting funnier and funnier.

Sometimes you're unintentionally funny...
  • Like when you brushed my hair into my face (baby brushes on already frizzy hair are just fabulous by the way) then patted my arm while admiring your work proclaiming it, "Cute!"
  • Or when you got a little boo-boo and wanted Bono to kiss it. (You can read more about your U2 obsession here.) You also wanted to share your chicken with Bono & Edge. You're a pretty stellar sharer.
  • And when you dumped a bunch of pasta down the front of your shirt and said, "Oh goodness!"


showing off the curler in your hair


And other times you try to make us laugh...
  • Like when you kept offering me cucumber I didn't want - actually demanding I eat it - only to yank it away every time I leaned in for a bite.
  • Or when you make your goldfish crackers swim before you eat them. 
  • And my favorite is when you "do the pigeon" Bert style by flapping your arms and singing, "Uhn Uhn PIGEON!" You know this always makes me laugh so you are sure to do it immediately after misbehaving (to get back into my good graces.) It always works, you little manipulator.


And you think it's hilarious to tell everyone, "Mommy's stinky!"

You still fall all the time. I think it's all that running you do while leading with your chest. But you seem to be getting more agile and I'm no longer petrified to let you run on the pavement. It's not like I could stop you anyway. You're ball crazy. Football, soccer, baseball, tennis. If there's a ball around you want it. And I know I am completely biased, but I really think you have a good arm. And of course you are super passionate about trucks too. We scour the streets for SEEM ROW (steam rollers), DOZE (bulldozers) and GAR (garbage) TRUCKS on a daily basis.    

I still think you are the most beautiful little boy ever. You have an amazing smile and luckily I get to see it all the time since you are such a happy kid. You've just started throwing your head back and laughing (usually when Daddy or I have laughed first). It is adorable, but I fear you'll inherit the cackle laugh which was bestowed upon me from my mother. The kind of laugh that is loud and sudden and turns people's heads in restaurants. It's awesome. Though on second thought, you'll probably only get it if you make fun of my laugh for years first. At least that's what happened to me. It's a latent gene kind of thing and it has to be triggered first. Like turning into a werewolf. (Sorry, I've been watching way too much Vampire Diaries/True Blood/Twilight.)

I love the way you say certain words - SESEEM for Sesame and STRAWBEES for strawberries. RERO is yellow and BOO is blue of course. You still end "r" words with "n"s - CARN, MOREN and DOORN are the main ones. It's odd but cute. And it's really hard not to copy your pronunciation. We just spent some time with my side of the family - it takes us about six hours to reach them by car (and by the way, thanks for that lengthy forty-five minute nap there and twenty minute nap on the way back). I always get a kick when you turn Aunt Ariel into "Arielielielielieliel." Sometimes I think her name will never end.

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

Mommy
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