Thirty-Three Months

Dear Peeper:
You are thirty-three months old today. Two-and-three-quarters. Closer (by the smidgiest of smidges) to three than two-and-a-half.

And every day, you get closer and closer to being a kid and farther and farther from being a baby. At least once a week I am struck by the fact that I can just totally converse with you like a regular person.

(Well, plus a lot more poopy-talk than with most people.)

I know I go on and on in every one of these letters about how your speach is changing and developing, but it is really amazing, even now that the changes aren't as dramatic as it was for a while there. (January was a doozy!)

You are now using "I"/"me" and your name sort of interchangably, and also using "you" some, as well as "my" and "your." I've never heard you use "me" for "I" but lately you've started using "she" and "he" for "her" and "him," and in "Put he there" or "What's she's name?"


I find it especially interesting how hmm, "meta?" you are about not just using, but discussing language. You are very big on asking "What ____ means?" or telling us that "____ means _____." You will also ask, "What Mama talkin 'bout?" whether I'm talking to you or to Mommy.

You have a few nonsensical (at least to us) phrases that you love to say, and just crack yourself up. Of course, we always ask what they mean, but you haven't really told us yet.

Once day when you were visiting Eena and Papa, you came home saying "Baggy waggy!" and when we asked what it meant, you turned the question back around on us. Mommy defined each word for you, and now you say:

"Baggy waggy! What that mean? Baggy means loose. Waggy mean wag Galoot's tail."

We still have no idea what the hell you're talking about.

The newest one is "I get the tape!" (We think.) It seems that it might come from a Sesame Street video, in which Grover is a doctor. (A's Anatomy)

You think it's hilarious.

You also define more sensicle things, too. I'm not thinking of any specific examples at the moment, of course, but just today you were explaining a couple of synonyms to me.

Of course, you don't call them that, but I suppose you could if I told you the term. Cookie Monster and his friend Emma have taught you how to make an hypothesis, and you know and use lots of other big words.

Which just cracks me up, but of course you're going to use the words that you hear all the time. There are so many words and phrases that I hear you say and think "Where the hell did she get . . . oh."

If you try to get me to eat something I don't want, I usually say, "I appreciate the offer, but . . . " and you've started saying that - or telling me to say it when I use different words to say "No thank you."

Everyday, you crack us up a hundred times with things that you say, either because of the wording or the meaning, or both.

In the past few days, you've started calling Mommy "Boo," with exactly the same inflection that I use, especially when you're calling to her from another room. "Boo-oo? Where are you?"

Last week, I was putting some food on the table (to say that I was "serving dinner" would be a stretch) and you climbed up into my chair at the table.

I said, "Hey that's Mama's chair," and you replied, "It's Peeper's chair now!"

A couple of days ago, although you had your own sippy full of smoothy, you grabbed my mug and as you were putting the straw in your mouth, you said, "I stole it from Mama!"

Of course, some of the things you repeat are a little less fortunate. A couple of weeks ago, we were having a rather tense day, and one of us kind of lost it with you, about your experimentations at the table.

There was something said about how you were making a huge mess, and you said, in all innocence, "I aaaam?" then some "mad words" were used, and after a bit, you started saying "God dammit mess! God dammit mess!" over and over and over.

At the moment, I was on my knees, cleaning the floor (yeah, that's not happening ever again) and I just put my head down and tried to keep you from seeing me laugh. Tears streaming down my face.

Finally, I said, "Peeper, 'God dammit' is a grown-up word." and you said, "Tell Mommy dat."

I said, "You tell Mommy dat," thinking that you were going to go tell her that it was a grown-up word, but instead you went down the hall and said, "Mommy, God dammit mess!"

Luckily, you now seem to have conflated that with one of my less offensive, you-Mama-now swears, "Ding-dong-dangit," because you've started saying "Ding-dang mess!" Much better.

Your other favorite is "Jackass." As in "Hey, Mommy - jackass. Jackass, Mommy. Jackass."

Anything else you say, nobody but Mommy and I can understand, but "jackass?" Clear as a bell.

I asked you "Where did you learn that word, honey?" and you pointed at the front window and said, "Learn dat word outside!"

That's when Mommy reminded me that I'd called Galoot that (but he is) during a walk the other day.

Your potty mouth aside, you are very polite - well, you certainly do your share of demanding, but you often say "please" unprompted and will always add it if we remind you. You are very good about saying "thank you," often in situations where I don't even expect it.

Several times lately, I've handed something to you, or done some little thing, and you've said, "Oh, thank you, Mama!" I suppose that's exactly how we say it to you.

More than once, I've asked if you could do something for me, and you've said, "Sure!" or a couple of times when you wanted me to sit down and read to you, I said "Can you move over, so I lean on Mr. Panda (or a pillow)?" and you've said, "Of course!"

On the other hand, often when we ask you to do something (or, more often, to stop doing something), you'll say "Oooh-kaaaay" with a tone of voice that is several years older than you are.

You are really enjoying summer, and especially enjoying the backyard. We are out there several times a day, and you run all over and play with the water hose, and ride your inch worm, and go in and out of your play house, and water the garden, and make mud puddles, and put your froggy boots on all by yourself so you can carry fruit and veggie remains out to the compost bins all by yourself.

Today, you were trying to climb a tree. A pine tree. With no branches lower than about fifteen feet up. You just stood there, putting your hands on it, and sort of jumping and grunting. It would have been sort of pathetic if it hadn't been so funny.

We explained that, unless you are a squirrel or a cat, that's not happening, but we helped you "climb" into a couple of different lilac trees, which have multiple trunks, and you just loved that. (Then we told you to never, ever, ever try that on your own until you are much, much bigger.)

You are loving the garden, too, even if you have prematurely harvested a few things. I think that next summer, we'll let you have your very own 2x2 plot to take care of. We've already bought you a "My First Garden" raised bed box for it. It was on sale at Lowe's, marked down from $9.99 to $1.00 because the connectors are missing, but  I think that we can rig something up for less than $8.99, so we had to get it.

Oh, and I suppose the biggest new is that you have, more or less, given up your nap. Actually, you would still like very much to take a nap every day, sometime around 4 - 6 pm, but when you do fall asleep, even for a couple of minutes, you are up until midnight or later. On the other hand, if you power through, you will go to bed sometime between 8:30 and 9:30, and sleep twelve hours.

I've not quite managed yet to start getting myself to bed any earlier than I was, so morning does come rather early, and I'm missing my own afternoon naps, but I can live without the naptime break in the afternoon, in exchange for three or four hours on my own before Mommy gets home from work.

Now, if I cna just learn to go to bed when Mommy does, instead of staying up until three or four in the morning.

Like right now. (Again with the back-dating.)

And, on that note, I will shut up, sign off, and go snug you up.

I love you, little girlie.


Love,
Mama