Your great grandma Victor, “Grammy”, told me about how when your Great Uncle Dave was little the common phrase was “I love you!” and Dave would respond, “Me too!” I thought it was so cute and since we’ve failed and getting you to mumble I love you or anything along the lines of it I tried the me-too-idea while we were camping. You picked it up immediately. It goes like this:
You look at me.
Mel: I love you!
Dunc: Uhh… ME TOO!
Just now, I pondered what to write about how incredibly CUTE this response is and then I lifted my left foot to rest on “your” chair at the kitchen table. It landed on a nice syrup-soggy waffle piece you left for me. The “me too” was cute, but somehow after peeling the sticky waffle off of the back of my newly pedicured foot it wasn’t QUITE as cute anymore.
The other night your Daddy asked you if you could make a noise while swinging back and forth with such ease – can you guess what it was? You immediately picked it up and every time you swing in that manner we hear “Ooo ooh, AH AH!” This has only further convinced me that I somehow managed to give birth to a monkey named George and that I need to start dressing in yellow with hats, because if I just raise you like a human, who would know? Right? One day when you’re older and you read this, you’ll say “Mom that was so lame, I didn’t look like Curious George.” I will laugh in your face and pull out the THOUSANDS of photographs I have and I will hold a little picture of George next to a few in particular and say “OH NO? YOU DIDN’T? Now go finish your banana.”
You love Cars, duh. And the newest addition to your playing with them is the sudden fascination with “choo choo”s. You love Thomas and are constantly playing with the playdoh train that is identical to the actual “play with me” train… such a silly boy. My vote is that you like that one better because the top will unsnap from the bottom and this offers up THOUSANDS of oppritunities in each day to scream my name and run full speed yelling “CHOO CHOO DIIIIIIEEEE!” so I can fix your beloved train… only for you to UNSNAP IT AGAIN. This is a tedious, but hilariously fun, game for you. Needless to say… we decided to stop letting you take it to bed because we wanted the household to be able to sleep without train-massacre interruption.
I think a lot about how you’re growing up, how much you look like “a big boy” now. You’re so handsome and I literally get comments from just about everyone I meet, including constantly from people in the family, telling me how cute you are. And so mild mannered in most cases, very mellow. Of course… then we get home, and it’s another story, lol. 🙂 I regret my anxiety and bits and pieces of depression resurfacing since the miscarriage. If I had just had a baby, I would worry that it’s postpartum depression and anxiety but unfortunately we had the baby in a different context, so I have no idea what this is. On good days I do my best to play with you and love you, deep down not knowing how tomorrow will be. But we all have to live our lives day by day.
I’m so proud of you and all that you’ve accomplished so far being 2 years old. You’re so smart and you learn new words on a minute by minute basis it seems! You love wearing shirts with balls (foot, base, soccer, ANY), dinosaurs, trains, motorcycles (“bikes”), and cars on them. And you’re OBSESSED with your new belt. We bought it to keep your pants up and around your no-longer-cloth-diapered bottom and it was the smallest they had… but still too big. Daddy keeps meaning to poke more holes in it and I keep forgetting to remind him… but WE HAVE TO WEAR IT. EVERYDAY. Rather then holding your pants on it just takes me an extra 7 minutes to jam it through the loops of your jeans only to make a nice HUGE belt bulge so that when your pants fall down like a 15-year-old too-cool gangsta in highschool, IT’S OKAY, BECAUSE I’M WEARING MY BELT. Good thing YOU like it.
I love you big boy, always remember that. You are so sweet and I know you can accomplish anything you put your mind to. Including FINALLY understanding that the word backpack is not the same as packpack. 🙂