Dear Little Miss,
A year and a half--and determined to surmount any challenges of your young age so you can keep up with the rest of us. You are nonstop mischief, climbing, opening, spilling, reaching, grabbing, markering. Nothing is safe now that you can reach up to the countertops in the kitchen, and you know how to open drawers and cupboards. Your mission in life is to climb up and down stairs. Up, you're pretty good. Down--you have a lot of work to do. You have a sixth sense of when we accidentally leave the baby gate open--or latched, but without the extra security latch--and you're up a few steps before I even realize it. Hazards, hazards all around. You yourself require all my attention. Yet I also have your sister. Our days, these days, are more than a little chaotic.
But oh, the cuteness. The cuteness! Your giggly, babbling, kissing, hugging cuteness. You have the biggest, toothiest smile, and you flash it at the silliest things: when we eat oatmeal together in the morning and I say "Mmmm" after each bite; when I get out of the car and wave to you, in your carseat, through your window; when you pretend to go to sleep on the couch and I tickle you. You give unsolicited hugs, and you'll give fishy, open-mouthed kisses when prompted. You love when Lucia holds her arms open, inviting you to hug her--you run right over and give her a cuddle. So, so cute.
You are saying new words regularly, though your enunciation isn't too solid yet. Here's your repertoire (some of these are comprehensible only to us): Mama, Da, Bibi, pa (pa-pa, your pacifier), no, YEAH (you have only one volume--LOUD--when you say yes to something), fly, Go (as in Diego, from a story you like in a Dora book), fuh (woof), meow, feet, shoe, cheese, side (outside), up, uh-oh!, na (banana), toast, wand, and lots of attempted sounds and words.
You say "fly" in two contexts: when you hold the ribbon-streamers in each hand and flap your arms; and when you attempt to make a butterfly with your hands. "Fly! Fly! Fly!" you cry. It's adorable.
You can point to your head, hair, nose, ears, feet, belly, and hands. You seem to know several colors, particularly blue and pink.
You're still getting up once a night, needing a sip of water or a few minutes of rocking, and you've been an early riser lately--six or a little before.
You're solidly in 2T clothes, even growing out of some of the brands that run small.
You continue to be SUCH a good eater. My goodness. I'm sure we'll have our eating difficulties with you eventually, but for now, you are amazing. When we visited Grandma and Pop-Pop earlier this month, during one dinner you were fussing and screaming, refusing to eat what we'd served you and instead pointing desperately to Daddy's plate--which held only an entire chicken leg. "Greta, look," we reasoned. "It's a chicken leg. You don't want a chicken leg." Daddy offered you the plate as though to say, See? This chicken leg is all that's there! You grabbed the chicken leg, immediately happy, and ate the whole thing, with some assistance getting some of the meat off the bone. Then you chewed the bone. None of us, none of us, have ever eaten a chicken leg with such gusto.
As usual, your sole focus in life is Lucia. What she's doing, you must do. What she's eating, you must eat. If she runs over with a bowl for her snack, you also get a bowl and run over. The toys she prizes, you also prize. You aren't always enamored--when she's in a three-and-a-half-year-old fit-riot, you get very quiet and stay close to me, uneasy and unsettled by the screaming.
You are just a little sweetie, my love. You are not always easy, but at the end of the day your daddy and I always agree that despite it all, you are absurdly cute.
Favorite toys/activities: Sit N Spin, sweeping with the small broom, chalk, bubbles, Barbie horses, markers, stickers, climbing stairs, attempting somersaults
Favorite books: Doggies by Sandra Boynton, Goodnight Moon, Duck & Goose: A Book of Opposites, Dora's Storytime, Little Bunny's Easter Egg Surprise