"Mama, I need milk and water and food. Mama, that's right, mama. I go and then I see it and then I go, mama. Hi, mama. Vroom, and the fire truck goes. That's right. Mommy and daddy and me and you and papa and me. I want to go to the park. Can we play basketball, mama? One, two, three, four, ... twelve, thirteen, sixteen, eleventeen, nineteen, twenty. That's me. I don't wanna go to bed. NOT YET." This is you the past month. Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. Did I mention you're talking now, a lot.
You find lots of things funny. Hilariously funny. Usually it's when your papa and I are being goofy, like when we play ball and I say, "Ah nuts," each time I miss a shot, which happens quite frequently. Or when I say, "Ewwwww, bird poop," when we come upon bird poop during our walk to the park, which also happens quite frequently. Who knew there were so many birds out there pooping, eh? On the poop note, you've started peeing standing up. One night you sidled up to the bowl, pulled down your pants, aimed, and fired, right on target. We remain very proud, kiddo. You are not only becoming a big boy, you have realized that you are leaving your babyhood. At the park one day we were surrounded by a group of older kids who arrived on a bus. They were everywhere including the slide that you wanted to play on. When they saw you coming one boy said something to you, I couldn't hear exactly what, and you responded with "I'm not a baby, I'm a big boy," before turning to me with your eyes welling up with tears and your little boy heart breaking. You are a big boy, Bean.
We must yell at our poor dog a lot because you have not only picked up our dealing-with-the-dog vernacular but also the tone we use when speaking to her. You are very comfortable telling the dog to go lay down and to come get her food and to hurry up and to go potty. You also continue to chase around the cats, but you don't scare them nearly as much as you used to. All our pets love you very much. If they didn't, they wouldn't put up with you the way they do. They are very forgiving but who wouldn't be? A few days ago you squatted down next to Mabel and gently patted her nose saying, "I like your nose, Mabel. It's cute."
You had your first spontaneous Spanish language emission while we were driving in the car - pequeño (small) and grande (big). You were talking about construction trucks. (Surprise, surprise.) You help set the table. You are my official cookie batter taste tester. You like to crack the eggs when we're making breakfast. You are fascinated by slugs and bugs and all things creepy crawly. This means I am interested in slugs and bugs and all things creepy crawly. You don't like wearing your socks unless you're wearing your shoes. You got a haircut. It's still long just not as long, and for a very short while you sort of looked like the boy toddler version of Dorothy Hamill. People continue to mistake you for a girl.
I hate to think about how fast this is all going. Next month you're going to be three. And shortly after that you'll be driving. Today I thought of what stuff of yours I should keep so we can someday use them when you have kids of your own. Yeah, I'm not joking. Thank you for being who you are, Bean. You are all kinds of awesome.Love,
Mama
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