Month Twenty-two

Dear Henry,

Well, my little man, you are now officially twenty-two months old. About half an hour ago you came tottering into our room, rubbing your sleepy eyes, and hopped up on the bed for a little milk before falling back asleep. Then you turned sideways, your little legs crossing over into dad's territory and your toddler feet nearly dangling off the bed. You do this a lot. Methinks your toddler self has figured out the energies of our space is unbalanced. So you sleep that way to assure your own health and good fortune. You're smart like that, and clearly have your finger on the feng shui pulse. In the meantime, we'll consider changing the position of the bed to accommodate your need to sleep with your head pointing west and your feet heading east.Returning to daycare has been a touch on the traumatic side for you. For this, I am truly sorry. However, knowing you aren't yet forming lasting memories makes me feel less like a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad mama and more like someone who is just doing what a lot of mothers do. We did get to spend just shy of two years together. Every day. And even though being dropped off is hard, I think you really appreciate having some new mugs to look at. For my part, seeing your face when I come to get you is about the best thing on the planet. All shiny and bright and SO VERY HAPPY to see me. I probably shouldn't be telling you this but in the future if you can conjure up that same smile when you get into trouble, you are so getting off the hook.You continue to break land speed records. How it normally goes is that we mention to people that you are really fast and get a noncommittal response, and then those folks actually see you run. Whole 'nother story, my friend. Lightning quick doesn't describe it. On the flip side, you are doing very well in the stroller, which is fantastic because strapping you in is one of the few ways we have of assuring you don't bolt into traffic. Okay, so, yes, we've rather irresponsibly joked about you playing in traffic but we don't want you to actually play in traffic. In a match-up between you and a moving vehicle, you won't win. You're too skinny. We'd be beyond sad and to fill the space in our bed we'd have to start asking Beauty the wonder dog to sleep in your old spot. Nobody wants that. She is one incredibly stinky dog. Plus, while we're willing to sleep with a diapered toddler bottom close to our noses, there's no way we're getting any shut-eye with dog butt in our faces.Books. We read books. A lot of books. I'd calculate somewhere in the vicinity of fifteen to fifty a day. You've developed a very handy selection process to help us determine which books to read. It begins with me grabbing a book off the shelf and holding it up for your review. Then, I get one of three faces. If it's a clear winner, there is an emphatic nod yes. If you're not immediately sure, I get the pause and less enthusiastic nod. If it's not something you are even remotely interested in listening to, there is the impatient nod no. Sometimes the latter includes a verbal "No. No. NO," lest there be any confusion. We hear that "No. No. NO," spiel quite often. Henry, do you need a diaper change? No. No. NO. Want to get dressed? No. No. NO. Would you like some broccoli? Peez. You're a quirky kid, bean. We have done some amazing work with names this past month. When caught in the right mood you'll try to say most anything if prompted. Most of the time your renditions are remarkably close to the original. Occasionally, though, they leave me scratching my head and wondering if we should have your hearing checked again. Dostoe sounds nothing like bacon, Hen. What the heck is a dostoe? I think your progress on the name front, though, is even more brilliant given that so many of your friends' names are hard to pronounce. Rs, Vs, and Ls seem to give you the most trouble. I find your French pronounciation of your own name to be quite charming. What's your name? On-ree. Yes, it is. Now go get your beret, go outside, and play in the street.You have surprisingly accurate aim when throwing a ball and you're getting closer to a bona fide dribble every day. Now that you can scoot down a flight of stairs feet first, you want to go down all by yourself. You are tall enough to press the button for the elevator. You can also reach the elevator alarm, which is fine when you're just riding the building's elevator but causes a bit of a stir if we happen to be downtown in a high-rise visiting our broker. You hate diaper changes. The tantrums have been kept at bay but the sooner we can get that phase of todderlhood over and done with, the better. This is not to say that you don't express yourself when you find something unpleasant, like when we try to remove you from the park before you are ready to be removed from the park. You employ the boneless technique. This makes picking you up, normally an easy thing to accomplish, virtually impossible. We haven't yet rejected the idea of just swinging you over our shoulders by your incredibly long eyelashes so you might want to be on your best behavior, kid. I am eternally grateful that you are here, that I get to be a part of your life, and that you get to be part of mine.

Love,
Mom