It's like someone handed you a book called "These are the things boys are interested in" and you've read it, cover to cover. Memorized it.
Airplanes and rocketships? Check
Bats, balls, sports? Check.
Climbing and jumping? Check.
Firemen, firetrucks, policemen, police cars? Double check.
Hammers, screwdrivers, tools? Triple double check.
We've had a really nice month. You are sweet and cheerful to be around most of the time, and I really like you. You're always trying to share your food or toys, wanting to play, and pleasantly chatting with us.
You ask so many questions these days. Among your favorites:
* Who 'dat, Mama?
* What 'dat, Mama?
* Hear 'dat, Mama? What 'dat, Mama?
I'll tell you: that's a man! or that's a shed! and you say: Ohhh, man! Ohhh, shed! You ask me "You upstairs, Mama?" and I say yup, and you say "Okay!" and head back to playing. You have the most cheerful-sounding "Okay!" It's my favorite thing you say.
You announce yourself to everyone around: "I'm Nate!" We went to visit Sophia the other day, and you walked through the door and said "Nate here!" Yesterday you were helping me cook in the kitchen, and you took a break to demonstrate "Daddy right there! Mommy right there! Nate right here!" pointing at each of us in turn.
You're also starting to get funny. A few weeks ago Daddy asked if he could have one of your cookies - when you said no, he pretended to cry. Now you love to walk up to him and say "No cookie, Daddy. CRY! Cry!" You two were playing in the basement, and you were hiding his belt from him. You thought to hide it in the dryer, and when Daddy was getting too close to discovering it you paused and said "No touch, Daddy. Hot!" Cunning technique.
You like to do everything for yourself. "Nate do it!" has replaced "My do it!" but the point is still the same: you are fairly insistent on it. I have to work extra time into our routines to give you the time to zip up your own coat, pour your own milk, carry everything yourself, and generally "help" me out.
You are a little Daddy to Jack, and you're always repeating the things I say to him. He started to cry in his swing the other day and while you walked over to him you were saying "Don't cry, baby Jack" and "I've got you, baby Jack." Then you bent down and put your arms around him. You like to try to pick him up and hand him to me. I try really really hard not to intervene in the interest of protecting Jack because I don't want you to become wary of touching him, so I only step in if you're in danger of hurting him. Yesterday he was fussing in his bouncy seat, and you brought him things to try to comfort him. You gave him his stuffed toy, your precious juice, and your even more precious bumper. That's how much you love him.
Your memory is sharp as hell. Right after Jack was born someone gave him that stuffed caterpillar, and I told you it was for Jack. You remembered it all these months later. It's pretty amazing.
You are going through and interesting shy period. You used to barrel right into every situation, and now you're often reserved for a while. You refused to stand on the scale at the doctor's office, and are wary of new places. We actually quit your gymnastics class because you just refused to participate. A woman next to us told me that her son was exactly the same way at your age, and now he's right back in the thick of it at three years old. I have no doubt that if you're allowed to be yourself and adjust and grow, you'll be your old social self again.
You certainly have your two year-old moments. You can be defiant and stubborn, especially when you're tired. You have a tendency to melt down just when I'm trying to get you, Jack, my big bag, and groceries out of the car and into the house. And it's raining. You'll go along cheerfully, and then refuse to keep walking just steps from our house. The other day I ended up sliding you along the floor between the front doors, while you wailed "No Mama! No Mama!" You love being outside, and it's often a literal struggle to get you back inside.
We have to use time-out every few days, but now you understand that I mean business and you rarely try to get up. You just cry "No Mama! No Mama! (notice a pattern?)" the whole time, and then give me a quiet "sorry" when I ask for an apology.
We're going to Aruba in a few days, and I think you're going to have the time of your life. Everyone's looking forward to spending time with you, and I can't wait to see you in the pool. Making you happy is the best part of my life, and I am so lucky that I get to do it so often.
I love you.