Dear Little One,
Because of all the craziness that went along with the move, I neglected to write a letter this month. And so I will write a brief one now, belatedly, with just a highlight or two. Forgive me!
One big thing was your mastery of the “arm slide” at the playground. You’ve loved it for a while, but I always supported you when you leapt off the platform. Finally, you pushed me away, and did the lift-off by yourself. You were so thrilled. It’s a little sad that we left just when you discovered this new great thing. I wonder if you’ll remember it.
You’ve come out of your shell even more, talking to our (now former) neighbors and often playing with other children at the playground. You take things to heart and notice everything, and when you’ve been wronged, it sticks with you; you’re just learning to talk about things you don’t like. When we were at the park a few weeks ago, two little boys in our playgroup were roughhousing; later, when we talked about our day before bedtime, you said quietly, “J was hitting.” Similarly, a little girl at the playground who wanted to blow bubbles with your tiny bottle of bubbles carelessly spilled the bubbles on the ground; later, you said a few times during the evening, “The girl spilled my bubbles.” You’re not upset at these things; you just seem to be noting how the world works, and discovering that it’s not always to your liking—much as we try to make it otherwise.
Favorite activities: painting, painting, painting. Elaborate games of pretend with your Matchbox cars (they drive places to buy food, invite one another to parties, knock each other over and are rescued by your Little People pig and another plastic pig)—you call the game “driving” and it’s one only you and Grandma understand.
Favorite books: The Little Engine that Could, Where the Wild Things Are, In My Tree