Month Twenty

Dear Henry,

You're twenty months old today, bean. The last few days have been rough, I'm not going to lie to you. As such, I'm finding it a bit of a challenge to gather my thoughts and write about all of the wonderful things you have accomplished in the past thirty days. So I'll start with the big thing that's coming. We are in the midst of preparing your baby room to transition to a toddler room. This includes buying a toddler bed. I can't imagine how bedtime is going to go once you no longer have bars to keep you in place. You have been resisting going to sleep for the past week or so. The ugly kind of resistance that has tears and a screaming baby involved. On the one hand, I know you don't feel well because you caught the dang cold I brought into the house. On the other hand, I also know you feel a heck of a lot better when you get your sleep so, despite your best efforts, you are still taking your daily naps and going to sleep every night, eventually. The new bedtime technique that seems to be semi-working is that you are reading yourself to sleep. And by reading, of course, I mean perusing the board books we slip into the crib. I can already picture how in a few years' time you'll be huddled under the blanket with a flashlight reading Harry Potter after we've called lights out. Although, given how much your pops and I enjoy those books, we just might crawl into your reading cave with you and read into the early morning hours.
You can walk up stairs without holding onto the railing, although you still prefer a good railing and will use it when one is present. Going down is a bit trickier. Your pops mentioned you aren't yet good at judging how far the next step is, so your modus operandi is to basically cast your foot over the side and lean forward with enough of your baby body weight behind the movement to propel you to the next step. When this is done correctly, you successfully hit the next step and continue on with your descent. When it isn't...well...that doesn't end well for you. This also means that curbs are no longer a guaranteed obstacle that keeps you from dashing into the street. We, as parents, are learning to be ever more vigilant as a result of this development. One close call came when we were visiting Tanner Springs Park after dropping pops off at work one morning. You were running along the iron art wall toward the Portland Streetcar, which was coming our way. Streetcars are right up with buses, trucks, and balls as far as you are concerned. Only you didn't stop when I called to you and because I was in the process of packing everything up, you were able to slip even farther away. It should be noted for those about to turn me in to the authorities that you never actually made it off the sidewalk and were in no real danger. Plus the streetcar driver was totally aware of you and stopped about a block and a half away until I had caught up with you.
We have taken two trips up to Seattle - one for pleasure and one for a doctor's visit. The first was most excellent. You got to ride up to the top of the Space Needle and stroll through the Public Market eating fresh donuts. It was while visiting the city that you realized there are bars all over the place from which you can hang. So, I spent much of our two day foray up north as your spotter while you tried to hone your hanging and swinging craft. Perhaps you are more ready than I think for a big boy bed. One thing you've started recently is climbing into beds - at home, at stores, and now in hotels, tucking your feet into the sheets and leaning back against the pillows. You haven't yet thrown your hands back behind your head and sighed heavily as you relax but that can't be far behind. As for the second trip. That went well. There isn't much we heard from the doctor we haven't before. We're going forward with some tests because, unfortunately, your last blood draw showed you were still missing some of your neutrophils. I'm starting to believe it is because you are superhuman and don't actually need them.
On the potty training front, you are very interested in learning more about the potty and you are quite the mimicker so this means you are already comfortable sitting on your potty. And you know part of the routine, at least for mom, includes having toilet paper so before you get on your potty, you make sure to grab a couple of t.p. squares for yourself. My favorite has to be when you are pretend-finished because you'll sit up slightly and wipe yourself, even though your clothes are on and there is a diaper in place. You crack me up, son. Oh, and have I mentioned that you laugh at the word penis? Because you do. That word has a surprisingly handy ability of distraction because if you are being a pill during a diaper change and moving around all squiggly-like, I can say penis and you'll laugh and be still just long enough for me to finish up the process.
You love lining things in rows and stacking things up. You also enjoy knocking things down. I chalk that up to you having a little bit of Captain Destructo in you. You take smaller balls, place them on whatever table is available, and then roll them giving 'em a gentle nudge with the back of your hand. It's as if you're saying, "Get along, little ball." Bigger balls are treated to a huge over-the-head precursor to the actual throw. What makes this more intense is the fact that you like to stand really, really close to the person that you are throwing to. I am certain you are going to be a champ at Dodgeball.
You are more vocal but a lot of your words sound the same so it ends up making it a touch more difficult to understand you. A lot of times our conversations end with something like, "Oh yeah, Henry? Good boy. Let's go see Daddy." This must be truly frustrating for you when you're trying to tell me you've trapped the cat in a cabinet in the kitchen or that you recently witnessed a crime and now fear the mob is trying to fit you with a pair of cement boots. You are very careful and usually give a great amount of consideration to each new thing you try. But you are also curious to see how things work, which explains why we can sit and play with Legos for long (well, long in toddler time anyway) periods of time. Put 'em together. Take 'em apart. Repeat.
You are the most amazing little bean on the planet.

Love,
Mom