Wanderlust

Letters to the O

Twenty- Five Months

I think your Dad summed up our experience this past month raising you very nicely the other day. "You know, he's either really fun or everything totally sucks." Yeah. I feel that.

You have become enthralled with music. Previous to this, you really liked music and would dance to anything that mildly resembled a beat. But now- totally infatuated. White Stripes, Artic Monkeys, CSS and the Fratellis are all favorite bands. When you hear a song you like, you'll get inches from my face and keep repeating "Like this song, Mommy? Like this song?" Until I agree that whatever we are listening to is absolutely wonderful.

One of the coolest things you got for Christmas was a series of Playhut tunnels and tents, which you were only mildly interested in until this month. A few weeks ago you discovered that the large tent, which also serves as a ball pit, was a perfect spot to cram all of your prized possessions into. You would sit on the floor, surrounded by your dump trucks, cars and trains and just bathe yourself in vehicles. Apparently this is the closest to nirvana a two year old can envision. Unfortunately, you would also insist that Dad or I join you. This is a problem because I am more than slightly claustrophobic. But one evening, I even ate dinner in there just so you would SHUT UP about it already.

It has become something of a ritual for you and Dad to chat on the phone while he commutes home and I make dinner. You'll sit and talk with him about your day, shouting and laughing into the speaker phone. The funniest thing though is that on my phone, when you dial Dad, a picture of him pops up on the screen. And you apparently thinks this means that he can see you through the phone. You'll take him to one of your matchbox cars and thrust his phone face at it, exclaiming "Ahhhhhhh!!" And I have to prompt Dad to say something in praise of the car or you'll just keep doing it, taking him from vehicle to vehicle and trying to impress him through the phone.

My favorite thing you have started to do this month is play with your bears. You have two large, overstuffed bears. They are named Boris and Henry. Suddenly one morning you decided they were not so scary and drug them by their ears into the living room. You told me they had "dirty butts" and insisted I put diapers on them both. You favor Boris and continue to drag him around the house, cuddling him, putting him to bed and feeding him food. Sometimes you bring him to me and say "Boris crying!" and you squint your eyes and sniffle as if the sadness Boris feels is somehow contagious. We take turns rubbing his back and reassuring him. And just when I am beginning to feel touched by your tenderness and sensitivity, you get up and throw him down the stairs. Ahhh. There we go. That's the two year old I know.

Posted by Kaz at February 23, 2008 12:29 PM