Twenty-One Months
Dear Roo,
Happy Month Twenty-One! I feel like every day you shed another layer of babydom. Potty training, running and now skipping, singing songs, enjoying the quiet of a long car ride (wow, to think the epic STRESS of car travel might be over), talking talking talking, pretending, coloring, cutting “noodles” of Playdough. The only thing left is Booby. Your beloved connection back to babyhood. All curled up in my lap, as sweet and soft as you were on this day twenty-one months ago. Your canines are coming in and that’s exascerbated the need for Booooo-beeee. I’m not sure if you’ll be giving it up anytime soon. There are days when I want that more than anything. Some space, some sleep. But I also know that this is my last chance to feel connected to a baby. Wow, my last baby is almost a little girl.
This has been the month of the boat. You’ve been a trooper through it all. At times maddening with the mess and merry-making. The tumbling acts and the lack of volume control. But you’ve also grown up and adapted to the changes like the smart, loving girl that you are. My other favorite firsts have been the kisses you peck your lips for, the true hugs, the “I Wuv Yous.” The questions – “What happen, Daddy?” “What dat?” and the long cries of “Here MY come!!” You imitate Sophie’s games to a T. “Skip to My Lou” is the new favorite song, loaders and backhoes still a roadside obsession. You had your first fat lip, falling headlong into a puddle. You’ve also been swimming like a fish- as coordinated and determined in the water as you are on land. Next year you’ll be jumping off the stern and swimming around the boat, I’m quite sure.
I say it every month, but you are a shining light, so bright and cute that we can barely look at you sometimes. Especially in the morning with bedhead. You are the one and only Rosy. Apple of our eyes. So funny. So COOOT. So very you.
I love you to pieces in the fire (as your great-grandmother used to say),
mama
