So hey Miss Thing.
Ostensibly this blog is about you, and lately you've been more of a supporting player, a Mary Wilson rather than a Diana Ross. A Robin rather than the Batman. My apologies to you and to your grandparents who, for all they know off this blog, you are living on Splenda and cheese sticks and tunneling your way to China with your munchkins spoon.
At this precise moment, your father is searching all over the house for the car keys you so cleverly hid. Or that we drunkenly misplaced after our night at the opera, but its so much more convenient to blame you.
You have officially hit the 18 month mark, which has brought us to a crossroads. We can officially refer to you as a year and a half or be the ubiquitous, asshole parents with their "21 months "olds, making people do math. Peer pressure is tough, kiddo, but math is just rude.
With your 18 months - er, year and halfdom, you are having a vocabulary explosion. You actually pointed to yourself and said "harlow" or "hello," and really, both are sweet. You said your cousin Avery's name, "apple" when contemplating the applesauce, wa-wa for wallet, and "outside" and "rocks," as in "Mmmm, these things I scrape out of the driveway and eat are scrumptious." Seriously. You eat dirt and you LOVE it.
You also have yourself a sweet tooth that we indulged not once but twice this week when we went to Muddy's Bake shop for cupcakes and then the Smoothie place for your first ever kid's cup. Because you know how they teach you that sharing is good at PDO? Not when it's Mommy's acai smoothie it's not.
You do a killer itsy bitsy spider. It's very violent, with a tsunami that takes out spider and a understandably tentative one who climbs back up the spout. It then segues into row-row your boat - and The Goodbye Elmo song, so its like your very own medley with dance steps, diaper shakin and what appears to be a mild episode of vertigo.
All kidding aside, you have found a way to just melt my heart. When I hold you, you take my face in your hands and study it. It's a humbling thing to be studied so closely, and then I seem to pass judgement for you press your forehead against mine, exhale, then pat me softly on the back. It's like you have found your safe place, but I have found mine, and we're so grateful that all we can do is rub our noses together in wonder and say thank you.
And this just in. We found the car keys. They were on the diaper changing station. Naturally.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
So hey Miss Thing.