This month I don't really need to write this newsletter. I just need to direct everyone to the chapter called "The Toddler Years: Your Two Year Old" and they'll know just about everything that's going on with you. You are stubborn and willful, fun and engaging, talking up a storm, and generally kicking my ass.
But since this is the last newsletter I'll ever write to my only child, I'll put in a little effort. Your little brother is due in two weeks, and I imagine there's going to be an appreciable slacking off of these newsletters, though I do promise to try to keep up.
First off, your talking is really exploding. You're all about the adjectives this month: dirty, clean, wet, hot, cold, YUCKY. You do not like dirty. "Clean, Mama! Clean!" Gotcha, buddy, I'll clean it up. The YUCKY thing is coming in handy - when there's something I don't want you touching, I just tell you it's yucky and you steer really clear. Hands off my "yucky" KitKat, kid.
You are directing and narrating our lives these days, in exquisite detail. Look, Mama! Come, Mama! See, Mama! Today you added "Come'ere! Come'ere!"
My favorite phrases these days:
* I'll get it!
* I do it!
* I did it!
* Okay! (Pronounced okee!)
Every day, you add a letter into the Alphabet song - you've got at least 2/3 of them now. You add in a new word to a song, a new question, a new something. Everyone told us that your language would plod along and then one day it would go crazy. It has.
The other day, our friends came over to go trick or treating with us - Ava and her mama Stacy, and Sophia and her mama Carol. We were having a little pre-outing snack, when baby Ava reached for your milk. Here's what you said, verbatim: "No, baby. Dat's MY milk!" You could have knocked me over. Hysterical.
You and I are doing a lot more fun things together: you help me cook sometimes, stirring or peeling an egg. We play on the floor with blocks a lot, and a few days ago, you asked me "Build a tower, okay Mommy?" Definitely okay, Natey. I really love doing things together with you, and I'm excited that we have so much in front of us: cooking together, crafts, projects. I've got a little stockpile of crafts for when you're older and we can work on them together.
When you see someone you're happy about, you greet them by running into their arms and yelling "Hey, Daddy!" or "Hey, Mama!" You make Grandma so happy when you run wildly to her!
But let's not let all this nice stuff distract from the terror that you've been this past month. Nothing will blot out the memories of the tantrums, the whining, the refusals, the whining, and the crying. The funniest part is how cliche the whole thing is: you throw tantrums because I used the wrong bowl, or the wrong cup, or I put you down in a chair you don't like. Sometimes you're furious because you wanted to do something yourself, and I did it for you. Sometimes you're offended that I asked you to do something yourself, when clearly I should be waiting on you. Sometimes I have absolutely no idea what's wrong. Those are the really fun times.
In the end, though, nothing compares to this: a few days ago, a stomach bug had me throwing up. You came in to me and asked "'k, Mama?" I'm okay, Nate. Always okay as long as you are.