Month fifty-seven

Dear Henry,
Today, you are fifty-seven months old! You are the most awesomest little boy I've ever known. Things are so much easier now. I don't know what those other parents were talking about. Terrible twos, my behind. Our hardest year to date was this last one but, and I cannot stress this enough, we have found our groove, Bean. You are a little love and so generous with your hugs and kisses and with the words, "I love you, mama," that it makes me smile more often than a person should legally be allowed to smile.

You've started twirling your hair around your left index finger. It happens when you are speaking, usually really excitedly about a given subject, and it goes and goes and goes until your hair is all twisted into a tight roll. And then you release it, your hair unwinds and you start all over again. I'm not sure you even realize you're doing it. I have no desire to stop it since it is so cute to watch.

So, I have to be honest, I am not the best at refraining from the use of curse words in your presence. I know. I know. Someday you are going to have the mouth of a sailor and it will be all my fault. The saving grace is that you know the bad words I say you cannot. It was a real treat for me when you converted my "holy crap!" to your own, more (sort of) suitable preschooler version, "holy poop!" Indeed, son. It was a "holy poop!" moment.

We have thoroughly enjoyed the outdoors this summer. We completed a 3.2 mile hike, twice! I mean, sure, if you count up all the hours we spent doing the hikes it seems a tad too long but we were out in nature, Bean. And there is little you enjoy more than nature. Candy might make the list. And books. But since there are far worse things for a young man such as yourself to be addicted to, I'll happily take nature. I'll even enable this obsession. If it wasn't for nature and all that hiking, you might never had known that such a thing as a rough-skinned newt existed. Or that it was toxic. But, hey, don't let that stop you from picking it up. Just don't eat the darn thing - One, because it's toxic and could kill you. Two, because how good could a rough-skinned newt actually taste? My favorite moment during the hike that you discovered this most fabulous of creatures was when, upon seeing one in the lake, you tromped in without a moment of hesitation. You didn't stop to think about how cold the water might be or to acknowledge that you were still fully clothed. You caught it. Examined it. Released it. Caught it again. Repeat. It's hard for me not to be excited about nature when you're around because you find everything so gosh darn interesting. The newt capture and release experience solidified your interest in reptiles and amphibians. You are currently asking for a new mama who will let you have a garter snake move into the condo. I said no. Apparently, this refusal is enough to get me kicked off the mama job.

It wouldn't be summer without much time spent at local farms picking berries and such. Your enthusiasm for such work typically wanes after the first five minutes but it turns out this is a very good thing. Because you are a dinosaur hunter and we had quite a lot of near encounters with dinosaurs while visiting the farms. With help from your trusty finger binoculars, you were able to track the flying dinosaurs overhead. You are quite adept at listening for and discerning the various types of dinosaur roars that we could hear from other rows, too. For this diligence, I thank you.

Bean, you got bunk beds! The first night you had your bunk beds, you slept on the top bunk and I slept on the bottom. The next night, your pops slept underneath. And the third night, you slept on the bottom bunk and your papa and me got to go back to our own room. We have had a lot of fun playing various games that incorporate the bunk beds. In particular, sea adventures. One Sunday morning, we turned the floor of your bedroom into an ocean with sharks and (LEGO) pirates and scuba divers and an infinite amount of seashells. We were captains on the ship. You took point on the top bunk and I steered from below. You do not lack for imagination, son. You must be going through another growth spurt because you have woken several times in the middle of the night with pains in your legs. And you've been eating inordinate amounts of food. We went to sushi one night - you pronounce it "shushi" - and you ate six pieces of nigiri and three-quarters of a plate of calamari. All by yourself.

Love,
Mama