Saturday, June 8, 2013

Fifty-Five Months (and a bit)

Dear Peeper:
You turned fifty-five months old about ten days ago. I'm sorry I've not had a chance to sit down and write your letter sooner, but I've had a lot on my mind lately.

In the past month, you've completed your first year of school, and oh, how you've grown in that year. You went from crying at every drop-off (until February) to saying that you "love going to Mother's Day Out!" and that you "had a great year!"

We certainly had our doubts about sending you, and second-guessed that decision many times in those first few months, but you hung in there, kiddo, and you did great!

You seem to be a bit sad that you won't be going back in the Fall, but you are also looking forward to starting at the Montessori Academy, as are we. You do have another year of preschool, so you'll only be going half-days, but it will be five days a week, which will be a big adjustment for us all, and you will be in the same class with the Kindergartner (who stay all day; there will also be half-day three year olds) which will be pretty cool.

We think it's going to be a very good fit for you, our little dance-to-the-beat-of-your-own-drummer girl, and we hope that it's all we are hoping it will be, and that things will work out financially for you to continue to go there for as long as it feels like the best place for you to be.

But, that's not happening for a few months. Let's talk about what you've been up to recently:

Mommy: It's supposed to rain today. You: (Excited gasp!) I love jumping in muddy puddles!

You put a pair of pants on your head, and started hopping around singing "Here Comes Peter Cottontail." I'm pretty sure the pants legs were your bunny ears.

I got home from the MOMS Club luncheon to find you and Mommy in the tub together. My first reaction was "Oh, that's so sweet, I should take a picture!" but then I thought better of it. When I told you that, you said, "Why not? You're not going to send it to Pinterest!"

You: Can I have some yogurt? Mama: No, it's time for bed. You: (cue tears) Noooo! This can't be!

"I can draw milk. I'll show you how I can draw milk. First, I need a cow. . . ."

I had a conversation with you and J (age 3) about the emotional benefits you get from breastfeeding. According to the two of you, it helps: when you're grumpy after a nap, angry and need to calm down, need to go to sleep or are scared of the dark.

You: It's not a school day! Mama: Yes, it it. You: It changed! Mama: Your school schedule changed? Who changed it? You: The Earth!

A few weeks ago, your "must have" toys were 3 raggedy-ass (not Raggedy Ann) dolls. You were a Mama Bear and they were your baby bears: A daughter, named after Ellie Fant (the talking elephant at the Elephant Museum), and two sons, one named after "the fish, Oriel" and one named after "that leaf, Stamp-Tree. You know that tree that the leaves stick on it? That's why it's called Stamp-Tree."

I was the Grandma Bear "cause you're my Mama, like my Grandma's your Mama." Well duh.

We went to TGI Friday's a while back to use one of my birthday coupons. You told us that you "don't like their food," but when individual bites of chicken, beef or carrot asked to go to the party in your tummy, they were quite welcome.

But, the first time I offered you beef, as you took the bite, I referred to it as steak. You spit it out immediately, and said, "I don't like steak!" with a very "ick" face on.

I apologized, cut it in half, and said, "How about some beef instead?" while offering you one of the pieces. You gobbled it right up, and agreed that the "beef" was better than the "steak."

On a related note, a while back when we were out to dinner, I told you to be careful with the (regular, not very sharp) knife, and you said, "It's not a beef knife!"

On our way out of the grocery store after 9 pm, you said, "Whew! We've had a hard night!" You were right.

Mama: I've got a Mother's Day card for you to give to Mommy, and she's bought one for you to give to me. You: What about me? Mama: What do you mean? You: What about a card for me? Mama: For MOTHER'S DAY?!?

You: Where's Mommy? Mama: She's at work, Honey. You: Oh, but I wanted Mommy. If only she could stay home, and not go to work.

We didn't go to the tooth-themed MOMS Club story & craft a few weeks ago, because although you were excited about it the day before, that morning you told me you didn't want to go because, "I already know about teeth! I have teeth!"

You stole one of my "lady" socks. You needed it because you were going to work, where you teach your students about "the bones and stuff, and the heart and the brain and nerve cells."

Mama: Hey, my students had a test this morning, and they did really well on it. You: They did? I'm glad to hear that!

You, singing the Heat Miser song: "What ever I touch starts to melt in my crotch!"

Lately, your go-to insult when you're mad at us or some inanimate object is "You nasty volcrat!" We have no idea.

As couple of weeks ago, you woke up, got out of bed, walked to the bathroom and pee-peed all by yourself! (For the first time.)

When I didn't hear anything else for a while, I went to check and found you lying in the bathroom floor, almost asleep.

You confirmed that she would like me to carry you back to bed, and when I put you in, you snugged her stuffed dog, Bingo/Galoot(the bedtime lovey du jour) and started snoring.

When Baby N was born last week, you were absolutely indignant that you weren't allowed to visit him in the hospital. You said, "That's not fair! H gets to go in the room!" But H is his sister.

The next day, you told me again, "It's not fair! It's a pity!"

Last Friday, you said that you wanted Mommy to read your stories. (You were mad at me because I'd made you get out of the tub.) You started before 9, and sometime around 9:30 I said it needed to be "lights out." You wanted Mommy to stay, and I think I know why. At 10, you were still "telling Mommy some jokes." Eventually, it got quiet in there, and when I went in to check, I found you both sound asleep.

You were annoyed because I didn't want Mommy to let you play with her wedding ring in the bathtub. You said, "But, Mama! You're a jolly old thing!"

And you, my love, are a silly young thing. And we absolutely love that about you.

Happy not-your-monthiversary-anymore. I love you


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