I’m sorry I’ve been remiss in writing these posts. It’s just that we get home so late, and by the time we eat dinner, give you a bath, and put you to bed, “Game of Thrones” or “Mad Men” is usually on and I just want to zone out. I’m sure you’ll understand one day.
But something happened in our house the other day that trumps even Tyrion Lannister or Don Draper (will you even know these names?): You peed in the potty for the first time! You were home with Daddy and indicated you wanted to go into the bathroom. He asked if you needed to use the potty. You said “Oh,” which is how you say “yes” at this point in time. You both went in, you sat down, and then you peed! Dad took a picture – not of you, but of the actual pee in your toilet – so I’ve posted it below for your future girlfriends. YOU’RE WELCOME.
It’s yet another milestone achieved. These days, I often wonder how you’ve grown so much, so fast. You’re nearly 34 inches tall, easily 30 pounds, and talking up a storm. It’s like a light turned on in the language center of your brain five weeks ago, and you haven’t looked back. Yesterday you told me, albeit not entirely clearly, “Mama, I want to watch Garbage Trucks now.” That’s an eight-word sentence! I know adults who don’t speak that well!
So, yes, Garbage Trucks are still a big deal. Really any major moving equipment does the job. I’ve tried to show you “Sesame Street” and “Thomas the Train.” You want none of it. YouTube videos of garbage trucks are still where it’s at. One of my bestest friends, Kate, recommended a book for you called, “Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site,” aka, the best book ever written for a toddler. We read it every night before bed. It’s so charming and sweet that I haven’t gotten tired of it yet.
We went to the San Diego Zoo Safari Park a few weeks back and you road the tram for the first time. BEST DAY. EVER. You spent the entire time shouting “Choochoo!” In fact, your first foray into imaginative play has been turning inanimate objects (cardboard box, your fork, etc.) into trains.
You can count to 10, except you always start at two. You’ve begun reading letters and numbers aloud. You can recognize your name in its written form. The other day you held up a piece of toast and said, “B.” Charlie, did you just read bread? ZOMG. Today’s favorite word is “sidewalk.”
You’ve learned the meaning of two other words: “No” and “Mine.” You don’t quite understand the concept of sharing, so interactions with other kids your age have become interesting. In the last few weeks, you’ve learned “Mommy’s turn” and “Daddy’s turn” (to read Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site, of course) so we’re hoping this is the beginning of sharing.
We’ve begun employing “time outs” (times out?), which you’ve suffered through a handful of times for hitting, running into the street, and throwing food. Can’t say much more about that except that you hate them and that you cry.
You’re down to one nap, which makes it more convenient to do fun things on the weekends, but also means your Dad and I don’t get as much downtime as we sometimes need. You’re so energetic that I feel bad our house isn’t bigger and that we don’t have a backyard. We barely even have a balcony. You need space to run and play; you’re not even 2 and can kick a soccer ball straighter than I can.
Though you’re energetic, you’re also loving. You climb all over Dad and I. You give us kisses and hugs. When you’re really happy, you’ll simply reach out to one of us and shout, “Mommy!” Sometimes you’ll walk over and just cling to my legs.
You hate vegetables and fruit fiercely. Most of your “Nos” are exclaimed when we offer you some. We have to hide them in food or behind other bites – you’ve even rejected goop, which has been our go-to veggie channel for a year!
You’ve begun taking a bath in the big tub. We took you for your first haircut (I cried).
I could go on and on. As cliche as it sounds, every day you do something new or learn another word. It’s an exciting time to be your mom, a job that I really do love. It can be incredibly difficult (during a nasty tantrum at Starbucks, I jokingly asked a police offer whether he was a safe-surrender site; he wasn’t amused), but parenthood is so worth it.
You’re so worth it, my boy. Your second birthday is on the horizon and my heart fills with joy thinking of all the amazing years ahead of us.