Dear Henry,
One month down, eleven to go. While you are a very nice kid, Bean, and I do mean awesomely and completely great, I am looking forward to being as far away from the aptly named terrible twos as is humanly possible. We expected you to be a bit more challenging, and you do not disappoint, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't sometimes miss the days when you were a bit more pliable and easier to handle. You can twist and shout better than The [frickin'] Beatles. That being said, we traveled this past month and you did splendidly. There was one misstep, one that only I can be blamed for, but you were the perfect travel companion. The airport's rule about arriving two hours before a flight meant that we had to find creative ways to entertain you. As luck would have it our gate was right next to a moving walkway so we spent a great deal of time playing on that. You really wanted to get on all by yourself but when your leg was pulled forward by the walkway and the rest of your body was still on the unmoving part, it freaked you out and had you grabbing wildly for my hand. It took you a few times to figure out you could stand just fine and then walk, and once you did you were off. And then you wanted to bring Piggy along, too. So we unpacked Piggy and you took him on a walk through the airport.
Our newest outside game is the Stop-Go game, a self-explanatory game in which your pops and I yell "Go!" and we all go. Then we yell "Stop!" and we all stop. It usually takes you a few extra steps before you stop but you do stop. It's a good game. When we're walking along, you'll say "I walking." And when you're running, you'll say "I running." This is usually followed up by "Mama running." You don't accept faux running, either. Believe me, I've tried to fool you. I have to actually jog or you get upset. I jog because upsetting you by not jogging is the last thing I want to do, especially during a month of increased irritability and whining on your part. Whining sucks, Bean. If I can curb any of that with a little jogging, I'll happily lace up the sneakers and snap on the jog bra.
On the playground front, you finally overcame your fear of the green and yellow slides on the big kids play structure at the park. We go there now and you head right for 'em and then go down over and over and over again. You emit the inevitable "weee!" as you slide. Verbal expressions of fun from a toddler are awesome. You can find fun in the most mundane, ordinary, uninteresting things. I guess that is part of what is so cool about having your very own toddler. You give me rocks and leaves and point out the bees and bugs. You like to take sticks you find and use them to draw in the dirt. A few days ago we were at Costco and on our way in we saw a caterpillar, one of those brown and black caterpillars that are sort of fuzzy. We spent ten minutes or so tracking the little guy's progress as he wove in and out of the shopping carts lined up outside the building. We pet him gently and then went on our way.
Disney was a hit. You got to ride on a plane, a bus, and a train all in one day. That was more than enough to satisfy you, lover of all modes of transportation, but we also got to see Mittey Mouse - that's how you referred to him. And we were outside walking and running so long you fell asleep in my arms as I carried you back to the hotel. You grew really quiet, your eyelids started to droop, and then you rested your head on my shoulder and slept. I'd say your favorite part of the trip was getting to see Mater and Lightning McQueen, followed closely by a short jaunt on the monorail. You love Mater. You seemed to really enjoy eating cupcakes for lunch, too. We might have to make this a new lunch option at the condo.
You remain inquisitive, quiet (for the most part), sweet, playful, and adorable. You have to have your dinosaur, dragon, Piggy, and baby with you when you go to sleep at night. You tell us when your diaper is poopy, but sometimes this is just a ploy to get out of bed once you've been tucked in. You're a trickster. You semi-sing the alphabet song, only joining in on certain letters. You are particularly fond of the letter P. You are brave, kind, and gentle. And we love you. So much it seems insignificant to merely type the words. It's just not enough to encompass the depth of feeling. You continue to amaze us and inspire us and we can't wait to see what the next month brings.
Love,
Mom
