Tuesday, October 8, 2013

21 months old

Dear Pea,
Dearest, magnificent, amazing Sweet Pea, you are 21 months old. You are almost TWO. When people ask how old you are, I say "she'll be two in January." It's so funny, we used to count your age in weeks, then months and now it's derivatives of years.

You speak in sentences. You sing, which is magical and hilarious and lovely. You can't carry a tune, but you know the lyrics and request songs and then sing along. You drink tea and eat soup and request mushrooms. You call soda "so-la" and kombucha "bucha" and know that you can drink bucha but so-la is "ew." Also "ew" are dirty diapies, dirt in general and the bottoms of your shoes. And raisins most of the time.

As seems to be the norm with the equinoxes, everyone we know has been sick. You got a weird 6 hour stomach bug, then a cold, then an itchy rash on your feet and now have another cold. Everything has been mild and you've healed quickly, but the most remarkable thing has been how you can communicate what's going on. Before the rash appeared, you told us that your feet itched and that you wanted cold water on them. So we ran your feet under cold water and slathered you with calendula and oatmeal cream and by the time we got you to the doctor, she said it was such a mild case of hand foot and mouth that she wasn't even sure that's what it was, maybe it was just a little virus after-shock.  And now with this current cold, you feel totally fine, just have a boogery nose, which you love to wipe by yourself. When you sneeze, you request tissues. You don't love it when I do gua-sha, but man, does is make a difference.

You love to help. "Eliza help mama!" is a common request and you are actually quite helpful. We bake together at least once a week, you dump ingredients into the bowls and throw away egg shells. You help Daddy sort the recycling each week and love to help with all aspects on laundry. You also love the "clean up" song and as soon as it's begun to be sung, you start picking up toys and putting them away.

helping me put away clean clothes

You are very diplomatic on the playground, insisting on taking turns with toys or apparatus.  Well, maybe insisting that it's your turn is a more accurate statement, but so far you are willing to wait out other people's turns without too much protest.  Today over a lunch of chicken and veggie soup, I told you how proud I was of you this morning for sharing toys and taking turns on a playdate/personal training session we had this morning. You nodded and said "Eliza's turn, then Maya's turn. We're friends." Holy shit, did that blow my mind.

Holy shit, do you blow my mind all the time.

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