Roughly in the spirit of some other bloggers who have written recently to their toddler or who use the discipline, planning, and free time (who am I kidding? what parent has that?) that they have, and which I lack, to write monthly letters to their children, I offer this brief missive in response to recent developments.
Some of your new games really are fun, like “hands up high,” when you demonstrate that you understand what we’re saying, can imitate what we’re doing, and could only reach the top of your head if you had six-inch long fingernails. It’s a blast, and I could play it 1,000 times, or until I tear my rotator cuff, whichever comes first. So is watching you push the wagon and bike/walker that you got from Grammy around the house. Especially the part where you accidentally ring the bike bell, which makes Barky freak out, hyperventilate, and have to go out on the balcony to get away, but that part’s only funny because Daddy’s sense of humor is sick like that, so stop ringing the bell so much.
OK, just one more time.
And your urge to toilet train is a great development, but we’re sort of hoping that you’ll stop mistaking any body of water in a white container in the bathroom, like the bathtub, for the toilet. Really, dropping two floaters in one week is quite enough for all of us. Although, to be fair, we did start you on black beans this week. What can I say? You’re a vegetarian like us, so this comes with the dinner, so to speak.
Speaking of squishy things, I know that you’re happy to have your squishy bits all in place now, but that doesn’t give you license to destroy others’ squishy bits. That game you play where you stand in Daddy’s lap and stomp his testicles flat with your heels–those games aren’t so fun. Especially when you add in teething on Daddy’s clavicle, clamping your eight shiny, sharp teeth down on that nerve that runs up the side of his neck, which sends a shooting pain like liquid fire up into his head behind his ear and makes him walk around for three days with his head crinked over to the side, his ear touching his shoulder.
And then there are these moments . . .
. . . these make me forget everything else that you do, or that anyone does, or anything else that’s happening in the world, or that there is a world at all beyond the two of us.
Thank you for these moments, 3B.