Thirteen Months!
Dear Rosy Roo,
Happy thirteen months! Welcome to the other side of ONE. This is my favorite baby age, still a baby, still cuddly, but like a paper bag full of surprises- everyday there’s something better than the last. At this point we can safely say you’re running. You spent much of the morning running away from me at the library, chasing the baby boys. Where Sophie was content to slide across the library shelves on her belly, you climb on the second shelf, then roll over and out on the other side. If there is a more difficult and dangerous way to accomplish a simple task, you will find it, Rose. Your daddy likes to tell people that if there were three objects on a table and one was knife, you’d go straight for it. Uh-huh.
There have been two new discoveries this week. First, your voice! It’s like you’ve accessed some secret control panel for making sounds. You parrot all of Sophie’s phrases, and do a great attempt at “Thank You, Daddy.” Dada has become Daddy and Mama has become Mommy. There is NO, Hi, and some signing. You’ve closed the book on walking and opened the manual on language. It’s fabulous to hear.
The second discovery- books! I knew it would come. For months you’ve been content to take them in and out of boxes and off of shelves, but just yesterday you sat through half a dozen readings of our favorite Helen Oxenbury tales, and then brought me a few this morning. I remember when this clicked for Sophie. Suddenly she devoured words and pictures like food.
A few days ago we went to a little beach nearby. The last time we were there was exactly a year ago, when I spent much of the time sitting in a beach chair, nursing, and bouncing you all over the place in the sling. I didn’t even wear a swimsuit. I remember feeling so sad that I couldn’t get in and swim with Sophie. This year you walked straight into the water with your sister, plowed in facefirst and came up with a smile. We played for more than an hour before it started to rain, and when we left, I heaved an enormous sigh of relief. That we are on this side of that year. We can go to a beach and play together. We aren’t looking down the barrel of colic and reflux. A year later, we are happy and blessed with a little girl who fits just perfectly into our family. A tiny mermaid with the baby tan lines to prove it.
There is so much more, Rosy, but I hope these little letters paint a picture of who you were, so that in twenty years from now, you’ll read back and see a bit of grown-up self. Curious, fearless Rosy, who is completely unaware of the limitations of her stature and age. May it always be that way. You are our imp. Our willful, joyful, fabulous imp. The dancing continues, with and without music. Whenever happiness strikes in force, you start whirling around and shrieking. It is truly magic.
I love you so much,
mama
