Clearly, he loves Superman. And watches too much television. And I like to think that his talking about sisters and brother means he wants one…right? (Shhh…don’t tell Zach.)
There is so much I love about this age. You are a mere 11 weeks away from turning three, and I just can’t imagine how things are going to get better because they are just so, so, much fun right now.
You talk incessantly. You categorize everything, and make sure I know that nothing in the world is new to you anymore. “Oh, so-and-so has that.” “Oh, I have dat at daycare.” “Oh, Nana always gives me dat.” “Yup Yup! I did dat yestewday.” (Oh, this Yup Yup! thing is super cute in and of itself.)
You tell stories, detailed stories!, about your day. You make up stories about Buzz Lightyear and Batman, Mommy and Nana, all of your friends at daycare.
These stories involve paragraphs. Sentences upon sentences, mostly run-ons. “Once upon a time dewe was a…cowboy! A cowboy named woody and he had a cowboy-girl named Jesse and she wiked to wide on horses and they rided to the park and dewe was cwimbing stuff. And den he fell down and oh no I fawin’ down! Help me! Somebody help me! and den batman came!”
You are silly, and you know it. You purposefully try to make us laugh, and when you succeed? You will continue to do the same thing or modify it to make us laugh even harder. When I chuckle at a silly walk, you do that walk around the room. Five times.
Your imagination is wonderful. Watching you “pick up food” (nothing) from the “refrigerator” (a block) and give it to the “baby” (buzz lightyear) is just adorable. And when you pretend? You tell me, “I’m just be-tending” and that? Is also adorable. You’ve already determined that money makes people happy because you will “givin’ you money” that you “pulled out of ma pocket.”
You have entered the I-love-to-be-naked stage. And I love it. Why wouldn’t I want to see that cute little bum more often? From eating to playing, naked is the way to be.
Most importantly, you are the most loving you have ever been. You know when someone is sad, and you want to make them happy. While I’ve been sick for the past week, you’ve consistently given me hugs and said, “Mommy? Awe you still sick? I’ll make you better,” given me big hugs, a kiss on the cheek, and then continued to say, “See? Awe bettuh!” or the occasional, “You awen’t awe bettuh? Aww…sowwy Mommy.”
You ask for big hugs! You ask for little hugs. You run to give hugs.
Before bed every night we cuddle. You curl up on my lap, far too big to sit on it in any way that doesn’t involve curling up, look up at me and say, “I wuv you, Mommy.” Sometimes you softly brush my cheek. Other times you give a pat and a rub on the back.
I guess I can imagine some ways that things will continue to be more and more fun as you get older. But I’m not ready for those changes yet, because my goodness you are the best. Right now. Right now, you are the best. I couldn’t ask for more.
From Your loving, always devoted, Mommy.
Alex is such a little dude these days. It just amazes me that he is, like, a person.
This is nothing new, and I have no doubt it will continue to astound me every other day, but my god language development is fascinating. And just development in general.
“I wike forests.”
“Oh yeah? What’s in a forest, Alex?”
So, trees are in forests. Good. This is true. For about a week every single time we would pass a tree Alex would yell, “Mommy! Look! Dewes a FOWEST!”
A implies B does not mean that B implies A. This is a very complicated concept, apparently.
Take Target. Now, Target sells, well, everything. It has toys, games, clothes and groceries. And because it has groceries, it is therefore, according to Alex, a grocery store.
Every time I tell Alex we are going to the grocery store, he is very disappointed that it isn’t “da OTHER grocery store. Da one wid da popcorn.”
And to make matters even more complicated, I told Alex that we will be going to see his first movie at a movie theater this summer. At the theater, I tell him, we will get popcorn. “Oh! Our goin’ to see a movie in da grocery store?!”
Of course we are, kiddo. Because that makes perfect sense.
I asked him, politely, to stop.
Last weekend, Zach and I went away for two nights. Two entire nights I was away from Alex. Before Alex I would never have understood the agony that a parent feels leaving a child for that long. I mean, hello?! You are getting away from your kid for two days! Have fun! Enjoy being a real person again! And I totally did. I forgot all about the fact that I’m supposed to be an adult. It was a blast. Plus, it was a wedding so it was romantic and beautiful and there were flowers and an open bar and there was dancing and it was pretty and it was full of love and happiness and…
I missed Alex. The second I got in the car for the five hour drive away from here I missed him. When it hit me that not only would I not see him the next morning, but also I wouldn’t see him the next afternoon, my heart sank. When I realized that I wouldn’t have to deal with the arguments surrounding food or cleaning up or, well, anything, I felt a small sense of relief. But then I felt sadness. Those tantrums may not be fun, but the moments of pure joy make it all worth it. A slight, sad, pressure hung around pushing on my chest the entire time I was away from him.
And when we returned, when I was able to get a hug and a kiss from little Alex, I realized something:
He didn’t stop it. I asked him to not change, to not grow, to just…stop. I made sure to say please! But he didn’t listen. He grew. He changed in two days. He sounded more mature, finally beginning to pronounce his “r” sound, and he looked more mature, with fading chubby cheeks.
You think if I promise him fruit snacks every day for the rest of his life he’ll stop?
“Oh no! Mommy! Oh no! He fell down!”
Fortunately, when Alex is playing he uses this super high-pitched voice. I never mistake a serious problem for pretend play, but I still have to react to whatever the pretend problem is: “Who fell down?”
“The man! The wittul fwying man! He fell down and went boom! He’s huwt! Mommy, he needs a doctuh.”
I told Alex to call the doctor so that the little flying man could get some help. We wouldn’t want the little flying man to be seriously injured and not be able to fly around again, after all.
“Otay! I cawed the doctuh. Oh! Da doctuh is here. ::new voice:: Hi, dere. I’m a doctuh. I Doctuh Seuss!”
Alex has a cold. Like all people of the male gender, he’s a baby about being sick.
“Mommy, I sick. I need med-cine.”
After feeling his forehead and neck, and recognizing that he could, indeed, use a little medicine, I give it to him.
“Thank you, Mommy. The med-cine made me awww bettuh.”
Later on, he looked at Zach and I: “Umm…maybe I have a fevuh?”
When Zach and I started cracking up, Alex started cracking up too and said, “Nooooo! I don’t have a fevuh. Dat’s siwwy.”
And then again, later that night, as I’m sitting in his room, cuddling before bed, Alex throws one hand up, palm out, against his forehead. The other hand reaches around behind his neck and Alex says, “Mommy? I have a fevuh. I need med-cine.”
At least we never have the how-to-get-a-refusing-toddler-to-take-medicine-without-throttling-them battle. Instead, we have to thank medicine manufacturers for childproof caps and the fact that Alex is a scaredy cat and won’t attempt to climb up high enough to get the medicine that makes him feel awwww bettuh.