Saturday, February 3, 2018

Dear Libby

Wait. Didn't I just write you a Happy 2nd Birthday love letter like, one viewing of "Frozen" ago? What on earth happened to the last 12 months? I remember hanging out with you a lot doing some of our favorite things (walks in the park, trips to the library, watching the same movies 1,000 times). I remember dealing with the occasional (daily) tantrum and cleaning up the occasional (hourly) mess or two, but other than that, I can't tell you where this year went.

A few things stick out. You got really into the holidays this year and asked everyone you saw every time you saw them one of the following questions for months:

1. What are you gonna be for Halloween?
2. What am I gonna be for Halloween?
3. What do you want for Christmas? 
4. What do I want for Christmas?

It was super cute...the first 8 million times. After that...well, let's just say I was okay with New Years finally rolling around. It's now February and you still manage to work all four questions into regular conversation. Only eight more months until they become relevant again! 

You also had an incredible vocabulary explosion this year and have been known to call me:

1. Gullible (sometimes appropriately)
2. Complicated (also appropriately)
3. Your best friend (swoon!)
4. Your true love (mega swoon!)

I hang on to the moments when you call me those last two because I am painfully aware of the day in the not so distant future when getting you to spend time with me will take some kind of hypnosis like the kind Ursula uses on Prince Eric when she's disguised as Vanessa and using Ariel's voice (hopefully, you still love "The Little Mermaid" as much as you do now and get that reference).

You also make up words. I have a (probably not great) tendency to call you a jabroni when you're acting like a goofball. I also call you out on your frequent sass about 800 times a day. You opted to save time by combining the two, and call yourself a "Sassabroni." The first time you said it, your father and I looked at each other in disbelief and laughed for an hour. Now, we use it daily. 

Sidenote: We do still call you Crunch, and we still don't know why. I think you're stuck with this one for life, kid. Apologies. 

Oh, Crunch, that I could hit a pause button and just freeze time where we are right now, because let me tell you, now is pretty great. Here are a few more highlights: 

Wheel-san (as you call him): Your best friend in life is super hairy, sometimes smelly, and stalks your every move. Wilson, our beloved border collie/lab mix who we brought home around your birthday last year, has imprinted on you in the most adorable way. You reward him for such devotion by treating him basically like you do all your stuffed animals. You tug at him, pull at him, jump on him, smash your face into him. If you could, you'd probably pick him up and toss him around a little. I regularly remind you that Wilson is indeed a living being with actual feelings, emotional and physical, but you prefer to see him as a lifeform whose sole existence is for your personal amusement. You do tell him often how much you love him and that he is your best friend. It's just enough to keep him coming back for more day after day after day. God bless this creature and all he tolerates in the name of loving you.





You Really Do Love All Animals: I mean, Wils gets top billing, but if there's a petting zoo within sight, a neighbor walking his dog, or a feral raccoon scrounging around a nearby Dumpster, WATCH OUT. You will do anything to pet them, snuggle them, name them, and pretty much claim them as your own. You've ridden a pony exactly twice in your life. The first time you did it, you hopped on the saddle like you'd been winning rodeo competitions your entire childhood. Sometimes, though, this love gets you into the occasional sticky situation. Once, we were in a very crowded petting zoo and I was holding your hand, guiding you through it. I stopped short when I felt you lagging behind and, still pressing forward, I gave your arm a yank and said, "Come on, Lib!" only to turn around and realize a cow had walked between us and I was smacking you into its backside over and over. The mom next to me LOST HER MIND and I couldn't help but join her in her laughter. I mean, some days are good days. Some days, you hurl your kid into the backside of a cow. It happens. 

"Friends": You started going to daycare this year at the church, and you LOVE it. You must turn on that signature Libby Charm when you're there because everyone who runs it LOVES you right back. (Did I mention you're super charming? I know all parents probably say that about their kids, but I don't know many others who, on two separate occasions, have had complete strangers walk up to them and  HAND THEM  MONEY simply because they are far too cute to go unpaid for being that damn adorable in public. Your father keeps trying to get me to take you on auditions for commercials. I mean, you've already pulled in $4 doing exactly nothing, so he might be on to something there).


I mean, come on. Whatever you're selling, I'm buying. 

I digress. You call daycare "Friends" and you get so excited when it's time to go. Before we started taking you there, I was sick, panicking about how much you'd miss me when I dropped you off. The first time, I only left you there for an hour and sat at the library across the street in case they called me back to reclaim my hysterical, homesick child. You have never, ever cared for one minute about me not being there. In fact, I don't know that my existence even registers to you once we enter the daycare room. At first, I'd wait awkwardly by the front desk, calling your name and waving like a passenger on the Titanic as you bolted off to grab a toy or join another toddler already playing. Now, I just sign you in and know I won't talk to you again until you're back in the car nagging me for a snack on the way home.

Hold On!: Sometimes, for reasons neither Daddy nor I can discern, you talk in this super nasally, borderline creaky weird whine/talk thing that we can only describe as Kardashian Voice. You don't do it super often, but it comes out most when you're playing a game with Dad you've dubbed Hold On! We'll all be sitting around, and suddenly, Kim Kardashian is in our living room telling Dad to "hold aaaaaaan," and you'll jump on his back and demand that he piggyback you around the room. It's super cute and we laugh every time. I just hope that laughter isn't reinforcing the idea that that voice is OK to use anywhere but in the privacy of your own home.

Big Sister: This is probably the biggest thing going on in your life right now, and honestly, I'm not 100 percent sure you even know it's happening. In about two months, you're going to become a big sister. You know something's up. You see my belly getting bigger, and you know that sometimes the baby kicks in my tummy. You'll say, "I'm the big sister!" every once in a while. Still, I'm not entirely convinced you know what that means. But the good news is this: I know in my heart of hearts you are going to be the most amazing big sister any little brother could ever ask for. I know you're going to love this baby more than you'll be able to tell us, and I know you're going to teach him how to be just the best kid God ever put on this earth. You'll show him how to be fun, sweet, caring, goofy, smart, and, more important than all those other things, kind. Because you are all of that. He will watch you and learn from your extraordinary example, and I feel so blessed every day that Dad and I have you around to help him learn and grow.

Our family is growing, and as it does, so will my already-consuming love for you. I can't wait to see where this journey takes us. Just know that wherever it leads, we're going together.



XOXOX,

Mama

No comments:

Post a Comment