Dear Carolyn,
I couldn’t decide whether to continue writing these monthly letters – it seems like an odd thing to count months once you’re two years old. But on the other hand, I really enjoy looking back at all the things you’ve done on a monthly basis over the past two years. So, I’ll keep writing as long as you keep doing fun and interesting stuff, OK?
If we had any doubt that you turned two last month…well, there’s no doubt at all – you tell everyone you see “I be two!” if they even glance in your direction for half a second. You’ve also started suffering from the “if it wasn’t my idea I refuse to do it” syndrome, the “if it’s on my plate and isn’t at least 97% carbohydrates I won’t eat it” virus, and the “I want to do it myself and if I can’t I will go completely limp/stiffen all my limbs/have a complete and utter meltdown” disease. In other words, you’re two years old!
Right now your most very favorite show to watch is Sesame Street. Practically before we even finish breakfast you start pleading to watch it. Obviously you know I’m at my weakest in the morning before my coffee kicks in, and as long as we don’t have to be anywhere at a particular time that morning I usually let you watch it. Hey, it’s more time for me to drink coffee and clean up breakfast! (Although I do have to admit…I really love Sesame Street too and I watch it with you more often than not.) You love to try the things they show, so when the Count introduced the number of they day by showing a little girl hopping on one foot 11 times you decided you would hop on one foot. You stand in a doorway, hold on to the frame, pick up one foot and swing it back and forth while you count. It’s really quite charming.
Speaking of counting, it’s really funny how you count now: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 14, 16, 18, 19, 20, 11, 12, 14, 16, 18, 19, 20! It’s actually pretty impressive that you know there are numbers past 20, even if you don’t know what they are. You also love to use my retractable tape measure to measure things, and everything is “two-four-nine” long, whether it’s my nose or the dogs’ tails.
You desperately want to be all grown up. You beg me for coffee in the morning (no, I don’t give it to you – the last thing you need is caffeine!) and tote a purse around when we shop. If I ask you if you’re my baby, you say “No, Mommy! I a little girl!” I know how badly you want to be grown up, but baby, stay little as long as you can. There’s so much time to be a grown up and so little time to be a baby!
Love, Mommy