You like to be carried now. A lot. It used to be that you'd run around forever but now you prefer to run a short distance before you find your nearest parent, hold up your arms, and say "Up," or sometimes the nicer version your parental units prefer, "Up, please." Our arms are getting the old toddler carrying workout. It's okay for small distances but when we're out on the occasional hike, it can be challenging. Hiking with toddlers takes determination on the part of the parents and willingness on the part of the toddlers. Your willingness to hike lasts until we're somewhere between half to three quarters of the way through the hike and then you want to be back home or at the playground or pretty much anywhere other than where you are. Explaining that we're in the middle of a forest on a trail that we have to continue hiking on in order to get back home, the playground or pretty much anywhere other than where you are isn't an effective way to keep you on task. What does work, though, is hunting. So far we've hunted for mushrooms, dinosaurs or squirrels, and we've found mushrooms and squirrels. Alas, the dinosaurs remain elusive targets.
Speaking of dinosaurs, we took you to see a show with animated robotic life-sized dinosaurs at the Rose Quarter and you loved it. We considered the possibility that you might be too young and worried a bit that the roars would scare you so we had prepared ourselves for the possibility that we might have to leave early and kiss the money spent on tickets goodbye. But all was for naught, Bean, because you had a fantastic time and weren't scared in the least. When one dinosaur (if memory serves it was the Braciosaurus) came to the side of the arena where we were sitting and extended his gigantic head towards the crowd, you calmly raised your hand and waved while saying "Hi."
The no-nap saga continues, unfortunately. There are days when you drop exhausted at about three o'clock in the afternoon, which also means that bed time later that night will be a disaster, but it's more usual for you to just skip your nap altogether. Sigh. I wish that weren't the case but at least now the weather is getting nicer and we have plenty of things we can find to do to occupy our time. If Disneyland could just build a theme park in Portland that would be awesome. (We don't really want to move to So. Cal. so I'll start a letter writing campaign and lobby for them to come here.) I'd take you every day because I don't think you'd ever tire of seeing Mater and Lightning McQueen or going on roller coaster rides, several of which you can do now. You had a most excellent second trip to Disneyland this past month with your pops and I and fourteen of your pop's Canadian relatives. As evidence that you are my little fearless wonder, you rode a few rides that even a 12-year old wouldn't go on. You eat fear for breakfast! I think this means I've created a future horror flick aficionado to accompany me to the theatres. I'll spring for the tickets and candy, Bean. 
You ask to go to "mama's room, papa's room" when you admit to being tired. And that's how you say it "mama's room, papa's room." Speech-wise, I couldn't be more pleased. You still aren't nearly as gabby as your girl friends and cousin Amels, but you do talk and you do create sentences and most of the time I'm impressed with your toddler grammar. A few weeks ago, we were in the car and you piped up from the backseat, "My eyes is broke." So I questioned you a bit further and noticed in the rearview mirror you were rubbing your eyes but before I could pull over to take a look, you declared, "I fix my eye." Sweet. On the other end of the spectrum, we still have weird stilted conversations when we're playing. It's not so much that we can't find anything for the toys to say to each other but rather that you're now trying to have two forks have a conversation. I get a fork and you take one and then you start with "hello." I have to tell you I don't know where to go after that, Hen. It's a fork.
You're already growing out of your size 2T pants. When I snapped a photo of you today from behind I noticed how grown up you look, and I realized I am witnessing the last vestiges of babyhood. You need a new haircut, again. And I just bought you new shoes. If we don't assist quickly enough, you can pull down your own pants to pee AND pull them back up when you're done. We're usually close by so this isn't a skill you've perfected yet but it's one you're working on. You've learned how to pick your nose. About a week ago, you attached numbers to items and counted, not just random repetition of the numbers themselves but actual counting. 
Pasta is probably your favorite dish, although meat is also well received as are jellybeans. The night before St. Patrick's Day you requested we put you to bed sans diaper. So we did. And there was no accident. <insert celebratory WOOT! here> Your new unsolicited expressions of love - be it hugs, kisses or "I wuv you!" exclamations - make this whole parenting gig the most awesome adventure we've ever taken. The fact that we can say that after all of the dirty diapers and sleep deprivation and tantrums and snotty noses says a lot, kiddo. A lot.
Love,
Mama
Love,
Mama
No comments:
Post a Comment