Dear K,
Sometimes you drive me nuts. But far more often these days, I catch myself wishing I could hold you at this age for a little longer. You can run, and jump -- your primary form of locomotion for a while, jump, jump, jump instead of boring old walking -- and give spontaneous hugs and tackles and tickles, and best of all you can TALK!
You rarely stop talking, whether you're narrating a Thomas adventure as you push your engines around the track or singing the song you learned at school (which, as far as I can tell, consists of the words "Hello Lucas" repeated fifty times). You can have entire conversations with yourself, incorporating my usual responses. "I see an airplane! Yes, that plane is flying high in the sky. I see it too!" But you still need me around sometimes. Otherwise, who would explain when, halfway through your animal book, you point at a picture and announce, "That is NOT an animal. That is a porcupine!"
You have learned the house rules and like to talk about those too, like yesterday when you paced around the deck, keeping your distance from the grill and repeating, "Very hot. Get burned! That's why the oven is hot, to cook our food." Or, "Hitting is bad. Pushing is bad. Kicking is bad. But licking is silly!" Then you chase me around with your tongue out, and if you catch me you lick my pants.
I don't REALLY want you to be two forever. Eventually it would be nice to have you potty trained. But you are so sweet right now that I'm feeling my first pang of wishing you didn't have to grow up so quickly.
Love,
Mommy
They're all good stages...yadda, yadda, yadda. Whatever. I've been yearning for mine to stick around a little longer, no matter which stage it is, for over 8 years now. And I keenly remember certain aspects of each stage. I still say, the 6-9 month old clothes beat all the others. And the four-year-old's compatibility, curiosity, playfulness were the bomb. Anyway, I've taken it too far. Now she apologizes to me for growing! Oops. I'm learning to bite my nostalgic tongue.
ReplyDeleteI agree with gudnuff--they're all good stages. Even more enjoyable when you have a sense for what each stage is like, so that you don't get frustrated that suddenly your kid has turned on you.
ReplyDeleteI distinctly remember when my daughter was six and suddenly didn't seem as cooperative as before. It took a shift in my perspective to realize that she was--duh--growing up and now in a new stage. It was up to me to change the way I treated her (i.e, not like a four year old anymore). I can't tell you how much easier that made life for both of us. There's a great series of books with a fairly mundane title like "Your 3 year old" etc that pretty much nails what kids are like at different ages. It was written in the '60s or '70s but is remarkably good at identifying the basic emotional, developmental, psychological profiles of kids. Kinda freaky, actually.
Anyway, two is awesome but you've got a lot of great years ahead! Keep up the good work!
It's been over a week, and I've been meaning to respond, so you two may never read this, but -- honestly, since K was a newborn, I have been longing for the day he could talk and have had to repeatedly remind myself to appreciate the stage he was in instead of wishing for him to get older. When he was three months old and people would say, "Don't you wish they could be little forever?" I would think, "NO!!!"
ReplyDeleteYou're not alone by any stretch.
ReplyDeleteI had a dream, when Q was around 2 months old (?), that I will never forget.
I dreamed that we were both taking a nap, which was what we were both doing in real time, too. But in my dream, I heard her crying and my dream self woke up and went to her crib to check on her. My dream self entered the room and Q saw me, recognized me, SMILED AT ME, raised her arms up to me to be held. I reached down and picked her up amidst a rush of giddy joy and overflowing love, both of us all sweetness and smiles.
Then, I really did hear her crying, and I really did wake up and went to check on her. As I entered the room, the crying continued. I got to her crib and there she was, all red-faced and pissy. As I reached over to pick her up, the crying continued. There was no recognition. No smiles. No sense of "Thank you, Mommy, for coming when I needed you!"
I'll never forget the transition from picking up dream baby to picking up real baby that day. Boy, did I wish she was out of that early stage of not even knowing who I was. You're not supposed to admit these things, but it was a major downer, going to her crib after having that dream. I could feel the clock ticking, waiting for her to stop being that selfish little red-faced bundle of demands.
Of course, now she's starting to demand that we leave her alone. I wonder, once she's entered full-blown teenage defiant independence, if I'll have a dream where she acts happy to see me again?