And Then You Were Two

Dearest Darling Monster Monkey-butt,

How you’ve grown and changed in the last two years! I can’t believe that here we are, two years together, and it can feel like a forever and a few brief moments all at the same time.  Two years ago,  when I was sitting like a weeble waiting for you to arrive, I had no idea what a joyous frustration you were about to be.

In the last few months, you have emerged from babyhood into full-on little boyhood. You love to run. You love to climb. At 6:30 in the morning, one of your favorite things to do is yell, at the top of your tiny little lungs (which really don’t feel so tiny at 6:30 in the morning before mama’s first cup of coffee), “Chase! Mama! C’mon chase!” Your little voice, while adorable, has an ear piercing quality to it prior to full caffeination. The joyousness with which you squeal this, however, nearly makes up for the fact that it is, indeed, 6:30 in the morning. How I managed to raise an early bird is beyond my comprehension.

Your language has blossomed in the last month or so. Now that you know how to express yourself, you do so very regularly. “Mama. Sit. Sing.” “More. Milk. MORE! MILK!” Your current favorite directive is, however, “SELF!!!!” If I never hear the word “self” again, I think it may be too soon. You have always been independent, but your recent spurt of self-ness is going to drive all of us to distraction. You want to put on your shoes “Self!” but you don’t always get them on the right feet. This pisses you off because you trip and fall. Every morning, you have to spend five minutes going through all your shirts to determine which shirt you are going to choose, “Self!” You want to make sure that no one helps you with anything – not a game, not a toy, not the stairs, nothing. I’m so very proud of the fact that you’re such an independent little man. However, I hope that you learn that asking for help is ok. Sometimes, we learn better when we ask for help. It’s not a sign of weakness. In fact, asking for help is a sign of strength. My job is to teach you that. I hope I’m up to the task.

You are an adept little man. You can play with “Monster Phone” and do puzzles, play games, find videos and songs you want. You can jump. You can dance. You love to watch Yo Gabba Gabba and try to learn the Dancey Dances. Last week, we noticed that you were clenching your fists, clapping your hands, and stomping your feet, in that order. I asked at school if they did anything similar. It turns out, you learned to do The Chicken Dance. You love to watch YouTube videos of people doing the dance and then follow along. Your spinning is rather amusing. I particularly enjoy watching you spin until you lose your balance.

You like to wear my high heels and walk around. I never cease to be amazed at your physicality. I know adult women who have a hard time doing this. You have an incredible sense of balance. I look at your arms and legs, and sometimes, they look a bit chubby or stumpy. Then I realize, there’s no fat there; it’s all muscle. Your muscular body allows you to be able to do the things you want to do in ways you want to do them. You love to climb up on the coffee table and then fall onto the couch. You giggle insanely. Your idea of fun most often involves doing as being.

Your giggle, my dearest boy, is one of your most beautiful qualities. You have a magical giggle and an infectious smile. You have several different laughs. Your true laugh, however, is the one where you throw your head back and burst out into this huge, closed mouth smile. Then you giggle maniacally through your closed, or just barely opened, lips. You look kind of like a happy, non-evilly deranged, version of Batman’s Joker. In another context, it might not be so cute. In this one? It’s insanely, and I do mean insanely, adorable.

You. Love. Music. You love to sing. You love to play music on your “phone.” You want to listen to music obsessively until you can learn the words. You like to sing on your own. Your current favorite is “Baby Bumblebee.” You also love singing and acting out Circle Time from your MyGym class. You sit in your chair at the dinner table and start chanting, “side a side, see a saw, side a side, see a saw. BIG HUG!” You love to re-enact the Goodbye Song from your music class, plugging in the names of the other kids in the class. You listened to the Banana Song (The Aggrolites) from Yo Gabba Gabba and will sit and sing, “Bannnnaaaaaaanaaaa evewybody wike it Bannnaaaaannnaaaaa Monster wike it Bannaaaaaaaanaaaa JD wike it Bannnnnaaaaannnaaaa Wooey wike it” when you’re alone in your room. At 5:45am. You get so excited by the guest musicians on Gabba. “Jimmy Eee Worwd!” “DEVO!” “Aggwowites!” “Weezer!” “SHINS! SHINS!” I love that you’re so enamored with music, or as you call it, “musis.”

You are probably the single friendliest child I have ever met. When I take you places, you talk to everyone. You seem to feel affronted by people who are disinterested in you. I hope that you learn easily that when people are not interested in you, it’s ok and not something that is wrong with you. You have a wealth of self-confidence that I wish I could bottle and put away for your teen years in case you someday need it. You like to tell people everything that has gone on in your world. You say hello to everyone and want them to smile or laugh with you. You particularly love “giwls.” A few weeks ago, we took you to the play area at a local mall, or “mall park” as you call it. You saw some girls who were about 6 or 7. You managed to get them to fight over you. You sat on their laps. You played with them. You let them pass you around like a toy, giggling insanely the whole time. You managed to trick one into helping you climb onto something you knew you could climb yourself, pretending to be afraid of sliding down it, so that she would open her arms and catch you. A few weeks later you wanted to go back to “mall park” and then said, “GIWLS!”

You want people to like you. You work to remember people’s names. I think somehow you know that people like being remembered. You seem to have a way with people that never ceases to amaze me. You manage to make people like you, even when you’re at your worst. Your joie de vivre is infectious. You have an amazing ability to take in an experience simultaneously sharing it with others through your glee and joy. You express your joy physically – both through affection and through your mannerisms. When you’re with people you like, you express your joy so abundantly that they can’t help but laugh and join in with you. This is the magic that is your personality. You have a way of bringing others, regardless of how long you’ve known them, feel the same excitement and joy for life that you feel. I have no idea how you do it. You exude this joy and allow others to live through you. You, my son, are a magical little human being.

You are also extremely…single-minded. Maybe persistent is a better word? Both of those seem to be more positive than the possibly more appropriate “obsessive.”  Once you have an idea in your head, you refuse to let it go. You will perseverate on an idea, a place, a book, a toy, or a person until you manage to figure it out. You will fight to the death to keep from doing something you don’t want to do. Your will is uncompromising. I know that, someday, this will serve you well. I know that as long as you manage to find a way to channel this will of yours, you will be able to accomplish whatever you want to in life. I just hope that you manage to retain this sense of persistence without getting yourself in heaps and heaps of trouble between now and the time you turn 18. Somehow, I have a feeling that there will be repetition of the words “grounded” and “principal.”

You’re a creative little Monkey. For as physical as you are, you also have some mental muscle. You can integrate ideas and memorize ideas in a way that constantly surprises me. Lately, I can hear you talking in your crib. Today, you had Tigger with you and out of nowhere used a high pitched voice (your new “Tigger Voice”) to say, “Tigger sad! Tigger CWY! See BearBear.” (Apparently, Tigger was crying because he was sad that he couldn’t see your other favorite stuffed toy BearBear.) You’ve started to make your toys talk to you. “Hi Monster! I’m Tigger!” When BearBear talks, however, you pucker your lips and lower your voice. You seem to think that the lowering of the voice comes from how you move your lips. I love watching you try to figure out these new, different skills. You have your trucks race, as well as your little toy people. You feed your toys “choccy” (chocolate) that you cook them on your stove (although since it’s from a stir fry kit, I somehow think it’s supposed to be ribs or some kind of meat). You like to walk around and have Daddy and I take “taste!” of whatever you’ve cooked on your stove. You play with your trains and talk to them, making them crash or race or re-enact episodes of Thomas the Tank Engine that you’ve seen.

You’re a ham. You love having your picture taken or making “joke!” You’ll poke my eyeballs, like you’re beeping my nose, and say “joke!” You try to tell the knock knock jokes you’ve heard on your shows. You’ve started making gagging sounds. The other night, I thought you were going to throw up, got worried, only to have you giggle and say, “BUUUUUWP!” Tonight, you stuck your finger in your mouth, made a gagging sound, and said, “joke!” You just want to make everyone around you laugh and be happy.

You, little man, are my greatest joy and my greatest frustration. You manage to wear me out on a daily basis. Just when I think that I can’t be around you anymore, you ask for “hugs” and make me laugh so hard that I never want to let you go. Being your mother is often my greatest challenge. It is also my most rewarding joy. You, my dearest little boy, are my favorite small person in the whole world. I love being your mother, even when I think that maybe I wasn’t cut out to do it. I love watching you grown and learn. I love seeing your personality become more defined. You, my dear boy, are active, creative, funny, and loving. Your ability to be an amazing little person makes me overflow with love randomly. I feel as overwhelmed by your existence in my life today as I did two years ago. I know that I will feel this overwhelmed for the rest of my life. This overwhelming emotion is something that I wake up feeling, fall asleep feeling, and dream about feeling. You are no longer a little baby but a little person. I love you my dearest, sweetest, funniest, infuriatingest, little man. I hope that my birthday present to you every year, every day, every minute is that you may always feel that love. And so, now you are two.

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