Month Twenty-Two
Dear Roo,
Twenty-two! Almost two! We get asked so many times how old our girls are that both of us have started saying “Two and four,” just to get closer to the point, faster. And two you are. I loved two the first time. I think I will love it again. All of the whimsy and greatness of toddlerdom. With a healthy dose of stubborn and perhaps a bit of obstinance, even if just for play. These days you often refuse a request, just to have a conversation. “Let’s put on your undies.” “No, I don wannu, I reading with Daddy and Sophie.” “Whatcha reading?” “Wion King!” Undies will follow. You just had something to say first.
Yesterday you helped mix up your first batch of Play-dough. Your first solo stirring experience, for at least five minutes until Sophie arrived on the scene. I sometimes forget that you need to be the number one participant in these adventures, just as Sophie was when she was nearly two. You were completely engrossed with the results for hours and then today I caught you making playdough “wife jackets” for your animals who were “sailing on boat.” Oh precious girl, how fast you grow.
Sophie sang a little song to you today, about how soon it will be your birthday and you will “talk better and have more hair.” True enough, littlest girl. You lie in my arms nearly every day and say, “I a big girl? No, I a baby. I a big girl?” I assure you that you can be my biggest littlest girl for as long as you want to be. Like I said in a letter to Sophie when she was growing faster than lightning, I will never wish that you were smaller, because each stage is better than the last. At each turn of the road I get more and more of who you are, and glimpses of who you’ll be. My feisty beast who can’t be contained in a restaurant booth. Your sing-song voice going every minute you’re not asleep. Rosy, terrified of the smallest bugs, but not of hanging from monkey bars at the park. So big and so little. So perfectly you.
Happy twenty-two, Roo. I sure do love you.
xo,
Mama
