Dear Henry,
We're celebrating your nineteenth month day today. Perhaps it is ridiculously obvious to note but you have changed a lot since your first day on the planet. In order to try and remember all that you have accomplished and things you have done over the past month, I've taken to writing myself little notes like "watching Nemo while eating", which I can later translate into "today we watched Nemo while you ate and not only did that help you consume vast quantities of food, but now you are running around the condo saying 'Mamoe.'" Speech is coming along splendidly, albeit slightly slower than some of your female peers. That being said, I expect it won't be long before you're asking what processes can affect the composition of magma other than fractional crystallization, 'cuz you're curious like that.
You have a strange repertoire of words you express verbally. Sometimes you'll say them when prompted, sometimes you won't. My guess is you're a touch performance-shy, but when you do decide to speak, you treat us to such greats as "olive" [ahwee], "bus" [duhs], "egg" [eh], "wheel" [weeahweeah], and "dolly" [dahwee]. Per doctor's orders we're also hammering away at the old alphabet. We are nowhere near having you jog around the condo spouting the alphabet from memory but if I ask you to say "a," you repeat the sound. We can usually make it all the way to the L-M-N-O-P part before you lose interest. On a side note, we're also hitting colors and numbers, with numbers proving to be the most challenging. You rarely sit still long enough for me to line your cars up in rows to count them. You only need to see one before you drive off on an adventure around the house. You do, however, come back for tire repair when a wheel happens to fall off. So I take that opportunity to count all the wheels for you before handing the car back so you can vroom, vroom away again. I'm sure this must be annoying but math is really important so bear with me, kid.
You are a very helpful toddler. For months, you've assisted in the daily feedings of Beauty the wonder dog. Oftentimes, you're better at remembering it is time to feed Beauts than your pops and I are. You also will retrieve not only your shoes when you wish to go outside, but my shoes, your dad's shoes, and if they haven't been put away, any additional shoes that have been tossed by the front door. And since we're on the foot track, you have started trying to clean your own feet in the tub during bath time. You grab the soap bottle, sit down in the water, and bring the nozzle to your feet where I think you believe the soap magically dispenses to clean your feet. Ta-dah! And dishes, I have to stress yet again that you must wait until the dishes are clean before removing them from the dishwasher. That's the most important part of the dishwashing process.
As far as your fine and gross motor skills are concerned, you couldn't be doing any better than you are because you are doing awesome, little man. You can hitch your space base command center to the moon buggy with no help from any of the adults you know, and you can put together and take apart your Legos with ease. Well, most of the time. Those buggers occasionally stick and when that happens, you'll quickly track me down to help you take them apart, usually not before expressing a hint of frustration. And by hint, I mean you clench your little fists while appearing very annoyed, a gesture that is punctuated with unpleasant sounds at high volumes. I believe you're trying to let us know how stoopid you think it all is because you can totally unhook the Legos if they would just cooperate and aren't they bad Legos for not immediately doing what you want. And gross motor skills, well, you've got those covered. Your running is confident and quick, with a sprite-like bobbing motion that is super cute. Oh, and you can jump. Sort of. It's really sort of an exaggerated two-step but you totally believe you are jumping.
You prefer uncooked cauliflower to cooked cauliflower but you'll eat both if you're hungry. Now, when wanting me to read you a book, you fling yourself backward with book in hand, trying to get a seat on my lap. I've learned to be ready for this maneuver because if I'm not, you take a tumble and the book goes flying. You say "hi" and "bye," with an accompanying wave at appropriate times. It makes you laugh when you're in your car seat and I turn around and ask "waddup?" Good growing, son.
Love,
Mom
