Jilli,
Today you turned 33 months old. Three months from today you will be three years old. It is a testament to your grown-upness that it took some time for me to figure out how many months have passed since your birth. I know that your third birthday looms large. You know it too. We have celebrated many birthdays of late and with each one you ask, "Its my birthday next?" I approach it with the bittersweet feeling of your baby and toddler-hood slipping away. Of course I want you to grow, I just wish I could slow it down about 50%.
You make us laugh everyday. Its the things you say, more often than not. Your reasoning and bargaining skills are exploding and often make for amusing conversations. After I put you in time out last week you said, "But Mommy, you tell me something! (this means I told you something you didn't like, in that case that you had to sit in time out) And that's not nice to me either!" You have a charming and hilarious habit of congratulating us on small victories. Pour milk into a cup? "Good job, Mommy!" Throw the ball to you? "That's a nice one, Daddy!" But we also laugh at the way you dance and sing, and the way you count to eight before jumping off the couch (you almost always land on your feet.) I know that at any point in the day, if I am looking at you, I have a big goofy grin on my face.
You and I both got sick this month. You ran a fever for a few days and had a tummy ache one evening. I aksed you what it felt like and you told me you had birds in your tummy. When I told you I felt sick later you said, "Oh no! You have birds in your tummy?"
I keep noticing you becoming more independent. You have wanted to do things on your own since, well, since you could express any desire whatsoever. Being pretty convinced that your inde
pendent streak is only positive we have let you attempt anything that doesn't involve imminent danger. Things are different now though. You get dressed with little help. You can put Rory's paci gently in her mouth. You feed the dogs and let them out whenever we ask you. You can set the table and clean up your dishes. Your lego towers defy the laws of gravity. And you can sit and play in your room, listening to cds and cooking in your kitchen for awhile all on your own. Its all amazing, but again, bittersweet. You don't need us as much as you used to and I think you feel this a bit too. You ask me to play games or do art projects with you. "You help me now, Mommy?" I know how fleeting even this will be. I try to stop whatever I am doing every time I hear your request. Time stands still when we play, and just for a moment, I get to stop the inevitable march towards three.
Love,
Mommy
Today you turned 33 months old. Three months from today you will be three years old. It is a testament to your grown-upness that it took some time for me to figure out how many months have passed since your birth. I know that your third birthday looms large. You know it too. We have celebrated many birthdays of late and with each one you ask, "Its my birthday next?" I approach it with the bittersweet feeling of your baby and toddler-hood slipping away. Of course I want you to grow, I just wish I could slow it down about 50%.You make us laugh everyday. Its the things you say, more often than not. Your reasoning and bargaining skills are exploding and often make for amusing conversations. After I put you in time out last week you said, "But Mommy, you tell me something! (this means I told you something you didn't like, in that case that you had to sit in time out) And that's not nice to me either!" You have a charming and hilarious habit of congratulating us on small victories. Pour milk into a cup? "Good job, Mommy!" Throw the ball to you? "That's a nice one, Daddy!" But we also laugh at the way you dance and sing, and the way you count to eight before jumping off the couch (you almost always land on your feet.) I know that at any point in the day, if I am looking at you, I have a big goofy grin on my face.
You and I both got sick this month. You ran a fever for a few days and had a tummy ache one evening. I aksed you what it felt like and you told me you had birds in your tummy. When I told you I felt sick later you said, "Oh no! You have birds in your tummy?"
I keep noticing you becoming more independent. You have wanted to do things on your own since, well, since you could express any desire whatsoever. Being pretty convinced that your inde
pendent streak is only positive we have let you attempt anything that doesn't involve imminent danger. Things are different now though. You get dressed with little help. You can put Rory's paci gently in her mouth. You feed the dogs and let them out whenever we ask you. You can set the table and clean up your dishes. Your lego towers defy the laws of gravity. And you can sit and play in your room, listening to cds and cooking in your kitchen for awhile all on your own. Its all amazing, but again, bittersweet. You don't need us as much as you used to and I think you feel this a bit too. You ask me to play games or do art projects with you. "You help me now, Mommy?" I know how fleeting even this will be. I try to stop whatever I am doing every time I hear your request. Time stands still when we play, and just for a moment, I get to stop the inevitable march towards three.Love,
Mommy
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