February 22, 2008
22 Months
So this is your last month being an only child, and I really hope that you don’t end up on a therapist’s couch in the future bemoaning the fact that the best part of your life was the first 22 months, and it all went downhill from there.
You and I spend our days mostly nesting at home. I am so ridiculously pregnant that the thought of chasing you around the house exhausts me. You seem to have a nuclear reactor inside you somewhere: your energy can be measured in half-lives rather than hours. This month we are as opposite as can be: you are thin and agile, I resemble the Garfield float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade; you bounce off walls like a pinball, I fall asleep standing up and drool on my shoulder.
Your curiosity has increased several fold this month. You want to be in things: laundry baskets, toy chests, clothes dryers, and babies’ orifices. A friend visited the house with her baby, and you promptly shoved your fist in his pie hole and shouted MOUF! MOUF! Yes, dear. Now stop gagging the houseguests, please.
Your vocabulary is increasing, but your enunciation still lags. Your favorite toy Lovey is WUFFY! People who don’t spend 24 hours a day with you can’t hear the difference among your much-loved Handy Manny cartoon, your daily vitamins, your dragon-shaped spoon, and your request to tuck a pencil behind your ear as all come out as subtle variations of MANNY! I am often called to act as your interpreter, which is a bit like the blind leading the blind, since I’m usually so tired that people generally can’t understand me, either.
Sometimes, though, you communicate something brand new, and it comes out clear as a bell. The other weekend was sunny and breezy, so we decided to take you to the park to fly a kite. Your father and I wrestled with the blasted thing for a half of an hour trying to put it together and get the string to unwind properly. You got bored with the kite and with us and started to trot off just as daddy managed to get the kite aloft. You looked at the kite in the sky, gasped, and shouted IT FLIES! In surprise and glee. I’d like to think of this as your first two-word sentence. It’s a much better candidate than the OH SHIT! You picked up from me last month.
Your knowledge of anatomy has improved, up to a point. You can successfully point out the major parts of your body and those of other people. While I was quizzing you, however, as you sat in the bathtub with your dad, I asked you to point to daddy’s elbow, and you promptly indicated his weiner. Um, good try sweetie, but no.
You certainly know where hindquarters are, though, and are quick to point out when others’ are obstructing your seat. When Sesame Street is playing on dad’s computer, you poke his bum and insist BUTT! BUTT!, meaning “move your keister outta my way, Mister, Elmo’s solo is coming up.”
I love that you’re so…not bossy, exactly…brassy, I guess. You know what you want and you’ll do your damndest to get it, even if it means poking an adult’s rear end to get a better view of a puppet singing about his rubber duck. I admire that about you – it’s a quality I hope you never lose.
But in the meantime, stay away from boys’ elbows, and don’t be afraid to tell them to get their asses out of your way.
I love you-
Mama