You’re snoring softly next to me and in a few hours you’ll wake up with a huge grin, say “Good morning mama!” and we’ll start a day filled with wonder and excitement.
At least, you’ll think it is. You amaze me by finding joy in the most simplest things. All I have to do is say that I have a surprise for you. Your mouth will drop open and you’ll cover your eyes with your hands, waiting ever so patiently for the banana, crayon or bouncy ball that I know will occupy you for at least 15 minutes. The happiness on your face during this time is priceless.
Then you’ll go back to asking for a video. You’re terribly obsessed these days. Given the opportunity to play with a bunch of new toys or a video — you’ll most likely choose the video. Perhaps it’s because we normally limit your exposure and we went overboard letting you watch too much Olympics to the point where you now can identify Pantene commercials and much to my horror, can sing the Wal-Mart song. Or perhaps it’s because you recently threw my iPhone into the pool and this
traumatic notable absence in my life is reflecting in yours as obsession.
Whatever the reason, it kind of freaks me out when you call yourself “she” whenever you look at pictures of yourself and when you want to reenact the home videos you’ve watched more than three times. It makes me wonder what the analysts will say about your generation. Probably a lot of theories about externalized personas, the inability to have healthy communication without a social media aid, a correlation between self esteem and the number ofTwitter followers, and the death of imagination.
Since we have to prove them wrong, no, you can’t watch a video right now. Let’s go outside and play.
Preferably with your new friends. You know, I put a lot of work into making friends with other mommies and caregivers so you can play with kids your own age. Well, I don’t have to work that hard — I just have to time our play dates, find agreeable people and muster up the energy to make new friends as well.
It’s sometimes exhausting for me, but you are amazing in new situations and when meeting new kids. You’re forward and quick to say, “Hi” to just about anyone. You’re imaginative and others feed off your excitement. You have such a great time, you almost always forget about me.
Which is a good thing my dear. Maybe it’s because you’re totally weaned now — but you’re really clingy.
You won’t let anyone else feed you, clean you, change you or play with you. This makes it really hard for Mama to do anything. You’re very demanding of my time and sometimes you just don’t stop. You need to stop. For the sake of your sister who often cries because I’m dealing with your demands — please, stop.
The baby talk can stop too. So can the diapers. And the whining. Please. stop. the. whining.
But not the stories. I love you’re stories — even the simple ones describing exactly what you did today. You sound so sure of yourself and so confident. It’s lovely to see you in charge of your experiences. And when you laugh, you make Ivy laugh too. I never thought I’d see your sister so happy to see you. Her face just lights up when you bounce on the bed and give her kisses. So far you’re the only person to make her laugh hysterically.
You’re growing up my dear. My little baby is suddenly three years old and I’m almost afraid to blink. It’s going by so quickly and I don’t want to miss a moment of your amazing life.