The Adventures of Team Smith: November 2010

Oh my sweet chatterbox. You've doubled your vocabulary this month. Here are your new words: nana (this is what you call Daddy's mom and also what you call bananas - thankfully Nana doesn't mind being equal with a banana), ball, apple (ahh-puhllllll), me, mall (mawwwwww), yummy (ah-mee ah-mee), bus (bahssssssssssss), and puppy (buppy). I have no idea how you're picking what words to start saying. To Daddy and me, it's a random hodge podge of words. But I'm sure to you, it makes all the sense in the world.

(Now that you've doubled your vocabulary, how's about working on doubling your tooth count. Seriously. I'm beginning to doubt that you even HAVE baby teeth.)

You don't like to share. And you are highly protective of things that aren't even yours, especially playground equipment. You think that anything you've ever played with, touched, looked at, and/or thought about is automatically yours. And you get insulted when someone else encroaches on your territory. You point accusingly at the offender and look at me as if you expect me to handle it. Like "Um, Mom? That boy over there? Yeah, he's on the big kid swing. I can't swing on the big kid swing, but that doesn't matter. Everything in this playground is mine, and THAT boy is on one of the swings. Tell him to go home. Now."

We've spent countless hours in front of your Magna Doodle, drawing letters, shapes, and numbers. But numbers have been your favorite this month. (I don't want it to sound like I *make* you sit down and learn your numbers - we have 0% structure when we play, but you love to learn, and I'm more than happy to oblige.) You can identify pretty much every number through 20. But instead of pointing to the '9' when I ask, you turn the Magna Doodle upside down and point to the 6. You think it's hee-larious that a 6 is an upside-down 9. Have I mentioned that you're weird?

One day, you were trying to pick up two mini-basketballs at the same time (note: it didn't work). I asked you how many balls there were and you proudly held up two fingers. You let me have one of the balls and I asked how many balls you now had. And you held up one finger. Yes, it's probably a fluke. But I like to tell myself that you totally understand subtraction.

When I get you in the morning, I recently started asking you if you had sweet dreams. This prompts you to launch into a stream of various animal sounds, pointing to body parts, and holding up random fingers. The conversation goes something like this:

Me: Hi pumpkin! Did you have a good sleep? Did you have sweet dreams?
You: *horse noise*
Me: You dreamed about horses? That sounds exciting!! (In reality, that sounds terrifying - have I told you about my crazy fear of horses?)
You: *hippo face*
Me: Horses AND hippos? Wow! How fun!
You: *points to your ear*
Me: Horses and hippos and ears? Really?!
You: *fish face*
Me: Horses and hippos and ears and fish? Holy moly!
You: *holds up 1 finger*
Me: Horses and hippos and ears and fish and one? That sounds like a crazy dream!
You: *sounding out the letter B*
Me: Horses and hippos and ears and fish and one and the letter B? Dude. That's wild.
*I can practically see your wheels turning as you try to come up with another thing to add to the dream. It's hysterical*

We put up the Christmas tree this month, and I have to admit, I was really nervous as to how you'd handle it. Last year, you showed no interest in it. Granted, last year, you were hardly mobile and easily persuaded to play with other things. This year? Not so much. We might regret this decision, but we decided to decorate the tree with regular (ie: breakable) ornaments. And so far, you've done really well. Granted, we've had to tell you 14 gajillion times to be gentle, but so far, so good. As soon as the tree was set up, you pulled one of your chairs over to the tree, sat down, and started petting the tree. It was so, so cute. Daddy tried to tell you to keep your hands folded when you come up to the tree, so you can learn to look with your eyes, not with your hands. Well you, Miss Literal, upon hearing that, tried to touch your eye to the tree. So much for that lesson.

I love watching you put together your alphabet puzzle. First of all, you can put it together really fast. Granted, you've put it together 4,912 times, so you SHOULD be fast, but still. Second, you make a sound or say a word for almost each letter.

A: ahh-PUHL (apple) or you clap your hands together (like an aligator) or you point to the sky (airplane)
B: buh (sounding out the letter) or beebee (baby) or bah-bohl (bubble) or you lift up your shirt (belly)
C: cuh (sounding out the letter) or you say cooooooo-kie (still said in the Cookie Monster voice)
D: Dah-DEEEEEEEE (Daddy)
E: you raise an arm up and make a burrrrrr sound (elephant)
F: you make a fish face
G: guh (sounding out the letter)
H: you make a blubbering sound (horse) or you give us a hug
I: you point to your eye (I can already see the meltdown that'll come when you find out that 'eye' starts with an E)
J: you stand up and jump
K: kuh (sounding out the letter) or you stand up and jump (kangaroo) or you kiss me or you run away because you know I want you to kiss me
L: ruh (trying to sound out the letter)
M: Mom-MEEEEEEEEEE (Mommy) or you point to your mouth
N: you point to yourself or you point to your nose
O: ohhhh-yeeeeeeeeeahhhhhhhh (that one's my favorite)
P: puh (sounding out the letter)
Q: cuh (sounding out the letter)
R: ruh (sounding out the letter)
S: ssssssssss (either making the S sound or being a snake) or you break into a huge smile
T: tuh (sounding out the letter) or you point to your toes or you point to your teeth or you point to your tongue
U: --
V: --
W: wuh (sounding out the letter)
X: --
Y: (You get very excited when you get to this letter - it was missing for a few months and when Daddy found it, it was like he had given you a million dollars [or, in terms of your currency, a million crackers])
Z: --

And you like taking one of the puzzle pieces and finding that same letter in your letter magnets. When you find a matching pair, you squeal and come racing towards me, so proud of yourself.

You fell out of your crib for the first time this month. You were in your crib for quiet time (which, by the way, has really worked out well for both of us. Each morning, I put you back in your crib with a stack of books so we can both have quiet time. You do your Natalie Noise during quiet time, so it's not technically *quiet*, but it still lets me get dressed and get ready for the day by myself). Anyway, so I hear you making your Natalie Noise. Then I hear a loud CRASH and think "Oh my gosh, this can't be good". You immediately start wailing - and I can tell it's not a "Hey, get me out of here! I hate Quiet Time!" cry. No, this is an "OWWWWWWWWWW!" cry. I run into your room and there you are. Sitting on the floor between your crib and your bookshelf. It's a miracle that you didn't crack your head on the bookshelf. You were terrified - I knew something was wrong when you snuggled with me for 10 minutes. I think that fall has kept you from trying to climb out again, but Daddy and I are going to convert your crib to a toddler bed.

So there goes my attempt at keeping you in your crib until you were 7. Bummer.

You blow my mind, sweet girl. With your creativity, your curiosity, your opinions, your sense of humor, your insatiable appetite for anything carbohydrate. I love being your mom. I love being there for all the new things you learn. I love hanging out with you. Thanks for not yet thinking I'm too lame to hang out with.

Hugs & smooches,
Mommy and Daddy

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for 12/1/10: