Dear Sylvan,
Yesterday, after you broke down at the pool, including the requisite 2-year-old thrashing and crying, 12 minutes after we’d gotten there, you said to me “Take a nap” as we climbed the steps to our back door. Oh, yes, my poor, sleepy boy. Next time, perhaps you could tell me that about half an hour earlier, maybe even BEFORE the changing into bathing suits and tantrum. I’ll try to read your signs better, too. It’s true that I was quite excited to go to the pool.
You and I have gone to the pool a handful of times, now that we’re finally in Eugene after all of our traveling. I actually brought a magazine on Tuesday and read the ENTIRE table of contents and “About our Authors,” since all you really want to do is shovel sand and dump it into the holes the big boys are digging. While you move earth, I sit and shade-bathe. I’m really excited when you move toward the water, as that’s where I’d like to spend my time when it’s 100 degrees. And when you say “yes” to the slide, yippee for Mommy! I enjoy that as much as you with your megawatt grin and deep dimples.
You’ve become quite the little honey, charming your Great Grampa John last week until he called you a “dear soul,” a characterization he surely gleaned by observing your idolization of your 7-year-old cousin, Elliot, your keen interest in fireflies and bunny rabbits, and your willingness to kiss everyone good night while kindly ignoring your tendency to disrupt dinner to run up and down the stairs.
Great Gramma Kay gave me a blanket last week, a soft, fleece-y one decorated with the American flag because she knows how much I enjoy going to America, also known as her home of Columbus, Ohio, for the 4th of July.
They do it up right in Columbus, complete with neighborhood parades with impressive floats from different residential streets, yard parties aplenty, and 451 different fireworks displays. Anyway, your great grandmother didn’t even know how you’ve become a little blanket snuggler, amusing yourself for fifteen minutes at a time just getting comfy under some soft blankets. You wrapped right up in the blanket for the parade, to the delight of the parade-goers nearby.
Your musical interest and talent has blossomed in the last month. You’ve always enjoyed “rocking out” in your carseat, bobbing your head back and forth, but now, when you’re dancing, you might throw in some different steps, or even a twirl or hand gesture or chasing your tail, silly boy. And your SINGING, well, let’s just say you’re beginning to rival Mommy with her phonetic singing (Who knew that Laura Branigan’s “Gloria” wasn’t really “Oreo?” And in Scandal’s “The Warrior,” isn’t it “a splash up takes another bite?” What do you mean that doesn’t make sense?). You especially love songs with nonsense words and phrases: knick-knack-paddy-whack, E-I-E-I-O, fee-fi-fiddly-i-o, choo-choo-cha-boogie.
I know our weblog readers are probably tiring of our awe with your spoken word, but these are a few of my favorite new expressions or one-time goodies:
“Mommy & Daddy” — Rather than crying from your crib in the morning, you’re likely to call out one of our names or your new favorite, “Mommy and Daddy,” which you imbue with a pretty singsong. You also use this phrase when you want it all, when you want both parents to join you on your next adventure.
“Maybe Baby” — You’re starting to appreciate rhyming, sometimes telling me a word you know that rhymes with something I just said. When I called you “baby” the other day, you responded with “maybe baby.”
“Sweeping fire” — You swept the dirt path inside our back gate, and that produced puffs of dust. You nodded and said you were “sweeping fire” when I asked what you were doing.
“Beeping up” — Of course it’s called “beeping up” when a truck backs up and beeps on the way.
I love you.
—Mommy