Disclaimer: Yes, yes, I know it’s the 1st of June, and I am way too late in writing your letter. Let’s just all be glad that it’ll be published before your first birthday.
Sometime between month ten and the start of month eleven, you bounded out of baby-dome and into being… dare I say it… a toddler. Oh sure, you can’t toddle without the aid of a mama, a dog’s nose, or the edge of a coffee table, but you’re a biped on the move! In fact, in hindsight, I think the only reason you started crawling is so that you can get to something to pull up, stand, and cruise about. Your balance has improved greatly in the past month, so much so that we often see you just standing. Not holding onto anything, but just standing. Oftentimes clapping and throwing your head back to cackle.
You’re putting some things into your mouth, but nothing useful. You are an expert at shoving a stuffed animal into your mouth, but just this morning, we watched you spend five minutes examining a puff, then try to put it in your ear. Good try, kiddo. But really, that’s old news. The new news is this incredible variety of stuff you’ll let us put in your mouth. Tofu tacos with black beans and chili powder? Oh sure. Buckwheat waffles? Yes, please! You won’t put food in your mouth, but you’ll let us put practically anything in there.
You’ve started having breakfast with the mamas in the morning, which means we have to add in extra time to cook you your own egg… and then poke bits of it in your mouth. School is feeding you all sorts of things, since you’ve graduated to the big-kid breakfast. Blueberry muffins, waffles, and just yesterday, a bagel with cream cheese.
You love Elmo from Sesame Street and you squeal and clap whenever we throw Elmo’s Song on the computer. Seriously… anytime you’re melting down for any old reason, we can throw Elmo up and you’re recalibrated.
You’re an avid water drinker. In fact, you will stare anyone down who is drinking water. You refuse to use a sippy cup, so we’re often holding a regular glass up to your lips while you chug down gulps of water and clank your two bottom teeth on the glass. When you’re in the shower with mama, you both take turns filling your open mouths with water from the shower stream.
You’re obsessed with i-anythings, which means any iPhoning and iPadding need to happen while you’re well-distracted… preferably in another room.
You say, “Mama,” “Baby,” and, we think, “Yeah” which comes out more like “Yah!”
Your mama has done a fantastic job documenting these achievements in great detail, whereas I’ve spent the last month alternately stunned by your utter cuteness and trying to silence the aching in my loins to give you a brother or sister. Alas, I think your mama and I are in agreement that, for now, you are our perfect only child. Just because we can, doesn’t necessarily mean we should. And honestly, at this point, we’re going to give birth to a new roof, new gutters, and maybe a renovated kitchen – which will most likely be more painful than labor, I assure you.
RR, every day, every hour, you amaze me in your kind, patient spirit. Your ability to brighten everyone’s mood, making everyone smile and laugh, is infectious. I am truly in love with this little girl that you are becoming.