Dear Sweet Boy,
What a joy the last year has been. Your vocabulary is exploding and you can now express many of your thoughts. You say entire babbly sentences with some identifiable words. You say “cold” and give me your tiny hands to warm up or “hurt” when you bump your head, or “pizza” when you see Pop leaving and expressing your hope that he come back with your favorite food. “I cook” you insist, underfoot and trying to help make dinner.
At 5am one morning you burst out of the bedroom with a list of demands akin to the airing of grievances on Festivus. “Baba, nack, juice, Elmo and animal cookie” rapid fire out of your little mouth, making it clear that it’s been a long night and you are hungry, thirsty and ready for Sesame Street.
At the park you chase “birbs” and are excited to pick up “bocks”. In fact, there’s a small bock collection on the outside table in Sunnyside awaiting your return. You critically point out where there’s a “meass” even though you are the messy culprit.
You love handling and reading books and always have a favorite page; the “keys” page in the, Goodnight Gorilla, saga when the sly Gorilla steals the zookeeper’s keys to emancipate his friends and the “cake” page in the, Oh no George, tale when the reckless doggie eats the entire unchaperoned cake.
You remember where your favorite things are kept; walking to the fridge for milk and juice, pulling me over and pointing to the cabinet where the “nacks” are kept or crawling into the toy chest to get your books and bag of sports balls from Auntie Brennie. You give me a 30 pound workout by throwing around the word “up” when you want to be picked up or, confusingly, put down. You say, “no, hot” and then touch the stove anyway you wee little hooligan.
Moreover, there is already an independent and sometimes defiant streak emerging, like the time you insisted on getting all your “na nite” accoutrements early, including your “teetee” and “baba”with milk, and then climbing on the couch, clutching each for comfort. When told not to drink your baba yet you defiantly took a swig and with milk dripping from your lips looked me straight in the eyes and said, “nummy”.
You laugh a lot and are sweet and happy and mostly kind to Lulu and Coco and love looking at family pictures on the fridge, pointing and identifying Pop and Mamma and Dada and Chuckie and pizza and the yet undetermined “Uncle Nay Nay”.
So many mysteries and adventures are yet to unfold. I can’t wait.
Love always,
JiJi
unbecomingjane 