Dear Sylvan,
Mommy asked me to write your birthday note this month. It’s a bit late, but you can’t read yet, so I hope you won’t notice.
I wrote down a list of the things you did this month, and it’s long. I find it hard to believe it’s only a month.
You took a big trip on many airplanes in December, ending up at Gramma Mia and Grandpa Dick’s house. You got to make a gingerbread train with Gramma Mia,
read books with Grandpa Dick,
and, best of all, sleep in Gramma’s bed with fifty stuffed animals every night. You loved it.
You even made up songs about it, accompanying yourself on the guitar. One of these days, your parents will get on the ball and post these things on Youtube so that everyone else can see you when they are too far away from you for their own good.
You got to open lots of Christmas presents. You got really good at it — so good that you were able to help the rest of us open our presents too. You had less trouble than I thought you would with the idea that not every present is for you.
You got to see Courtney, your favorite person in the whole world. Did we take a picture? Of course not. Next time.
You were a delight on our two long airplane trips (Eugene to Hartford, Charlottesville to Eugene) and our long car trip (Dover Plains to Philadelphia to Charlottesville in one go). You enjoyed saying Manayunk. So did I.
You got to visit Grandma Diana, Grandpa Tom, and Great-Grandma Kay in Virginia, where you decided it was time for you to start going up and down stairs, by yourself, with no hand-holding, and without falling. It’s my job to worry, and apparently it’s your job to stay upright while goofing around on wood stairs.
You painted with Grandma Diana and read books with Grandpa Tom, who taught you to count things (as opposed to counting to ten by rote, which you’ve been doing for about four months). When you focus and aren’t feeling too rambunctious (read: hardly ever), you can count things by pointing at them. One, Doo, Fee, Boor, Bive, Dix, Deben, Eight, Nine, DEN!
You appreciated the New Year’s Eve fireworks, even though it was past your bedtime and they were way too loud.
When we got home to Eugene, you had some epic jet lag, waking up at 4:30 or 5 for almost a week. Ugh. Work on that one next time. It’s dark for a long time on those early January mornings.
You have always appreciated music, paid attention to the lyrics, and enjoyed singing loudly and tunelessly. One early morning, we were playing in the living room, and you decided to play your piano. You accompanied yourself to a number of tunes at high volume, including an edited version of Old MacDonald. Mommy tried in vain to sleep through it, despite its incomparable beauty. In the evening, you serenaded us with a full, piano-accompanied version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. It was the first time I had ever heard you sing a whole song all the way through.
When we got home, you and Mommy slept (well, more or less) under the Christmas tree one night. As she was putting you to sleep, she stepped out into the kitchen to get something. We heard singing. When she came back, you informed her that you had been singing Jingle Bells.
The other big news in your life this month has been … wait for it … Underwear! Oh boy, we like doing laundry. Mommy and I decided to go cold turkey with potty training after three solid weeks of nothing but disposable diapers. We even cancelled your cloth diaper service as a way of committing ourselves to the task. It wasn’t the best transition scenario, but it’s working pretty well. You’re doing remarkably well, especially since it’s been just two weeks.
There’s so much more, but I have to save something for next month.
Love,
Daddy
