Yes, I am very late with this. But you might as well get used to it, because your little brother will be making his debut before I write your next letter, and then who knows when I’ll get it done. And it’s not because I love him more than you, but I am tired. You exhaust me! As your father described when he stayed home with you one day, you are a tornado. You do not sit still, you do not relax, you do not cuddle. You go – and go and go and go. And rip things down and apart and into pieces. In fact, you might be more destructive than a tornado, but don’t worry, you’re also much cuter!
As you can see, I decided that there was no way I’d keep up with monthly letters to both of my children, so I decided that you’d get letters every 3 months (or so). I can’t possibly remember all the cute things you’ve done these past three months, but I do vividly remember the multiple ear infections, the two bouts with the stomach flu, and the colds. We’ve had a very rough winter in our household, and I can only hope that all this sickness means that your immune system is getting stronger and stronger, because I don’t deal well with vomit. Next time you’re sick like that, can you aim towards your father? Thanks!
Every time I write one of these letters, I think the age you are at has to be my favorite age. And this time is no different. One of my favorite things you’ve been doing is ‘talking’ to us. It’s nothing but babble, but you raise your eyebrows, look us directly in the eye, gesture wildly with your hands, and babble very seriously. We often respond with “Really?”, “You don’t say?”, or “What happened next?” which just launches you into another full-on babble session. I am both excited and terrified when you start really talking; we might not get a moment of peace from sun up to sun down, but you might also share the secret to world peace with us.
You’ve recently learned most of your body parts, and you love to point at your nose, eyes, ears, and more. But even more fun is to point at (and smoosh) mommy and daddy’s noses, because when you do, they beep very loudly. This is quite hysterical to you, and you giggle and giggle and giggle. You aren’t the gentlest child and your smooshing sometimes becomes a finger up the nose, but it’s worth the pain to hear that giggle.
One of the not-so-cute parts of this age is the temper tantrums. You have perfected those in record time. Snack gone? Temper tantrum. Told “no”? Temper tantrum. Can’t get a toy to work the way you want it to? Temper tantrum. Us not getting ready to go ‘bye-bye’ quick enough? Temper tantrum. Do you see the trend here? Everything sends you into hysterics, and this past weekend was probably the worst. Your father and I were taking bets as to who was going to crack first. I am terrified of the terrible two’s with you.
Your life is about to change drastically with the arrival of your baby brother. While I am so excited to add to our family and give you a sibling, you are a little young to understand what is happening and that it really is a good thing. I wish I could change that for you, that you could understand. You’ll probably never remember life before he arrived, and you’ll be no worse for the wear, but I’ll know, and that will be hard for my mommy guilt.
It’s going to be a huge adjustment for all of us. Your father won’t get to sleep in as much, I won’t get to play on the computer as much, and you’ll have to share us with another person. But I promise you, my dear daughter, my love will only multiply, not divide, with his arrival. I love you, Mommy
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