Oh wait, I didn't tell you that I call you Puddin' Pop? Well I do. And you call me Butterscotch Puddin' Pop. And it's pretty embarrassing to admit this, but these nicknames are from a cartoon you love. Bubble Guppies, to be exact. What's even more embarrassing to admit is that these nicknames are the names of a mommy cow and her baby cow (don't ask how there can be cows [complete with fish tails] in a show about mer-children; it's one of the many, many, MANY things that make zero logistical sense about the show).
Daddy has started not bringing anything with him when he walks in the door in the evenings. His briefcase just gets in the way when Toddler Road Runner (that'd be you) bombards him at full speed. He can't even get the door shut before you (sweetly but oh my GOSH so loudly) ask him to play Pillow Fight on the bed. Pretty much regardless of the day he's had, because he's an awesome daddy, he plays right along with you and races you to our bedroom. I usually stay in the living room with Charlie to let you two get some quality Daddy-Nattie time. A few weeks ago, you decided that an even BETTER game than Pillow Fight is something you call Smacky Wacky. How it's different from Pillow Fight escapes me. The only difference I see is that when you two hit each other with pillows, you say "Smacky Wacky". And this causes you to lose your noodle with laughter.
Speaking of quality Daddy-Nattie time, you two have had a lot of time together over the past two months. Taking care of a newborn is fairly time-consuming, and as much as I'm bummed we don't get to hang out as much as we did before, I'm over-the-moon that you and Daddy have had some serious quality time. You two go to the grocery store a lot (and you're ZERO help with making sure Daddy sticks to the list and doesn't end up getting chips and cookies). You also do a lot of projects together - washing the cars, cleaning the garage, and discovering the latest happenings with the Guppies.
Three random, but nevertheless funny things - you call Nilla Wafers "Banilla Wipers", you call a thermometer a "fur-MAH-the-ter", and, according to you, Charlie's full name is Chaw-yee Bear Ee-yi-juh Smith.
Hey, I've got a question for you! Did you know it's easy for an almost-three-year-old to partially dislocate her elbow? And that it can pop back into place as the Urgent Care x-ray tech puts the almost-three-year-old's arm on the x-ray table? It is. And it can. [And did the mother of the aforementioned almost-three-year-old know that the aforementioned almost-three-year-old would get not one, not two, not three, but FOUR lollipops to keep her happy while she was in the x-ray room? She did NOT. She DID, however, keep her snarky comments about how the aforementioned almost-three-year-old has probably only had four lollipops in her entire LIFE before that day and that she would be sending the dental bill for the aforementioned-almost-three-year-old to the x-ray tech.]
Having a newborn, having inSANE nursing-related issues from practically Day 1, and it being so close to Christmas has meant that Bob and Pep have spent a lot of time at our house helping me out. Lately, I've noticed Pep and you have a little routine when he comes over. He gets a comb from your bathroom and sits down on the living room floor. You hop into his lap, and he combs your hair. It's pretty dang adorable. And pretty dang annoying. Because when you see ME come toward you with a comb, you immediately begin freaking out and insisting that you don't NEED your hair combed. You don't NEED a hairbow. It all HURTS. And it all FWUSTWATES you so you're gonna fold your AHMS at me. But when Pep does it? Yeah, it's the best thing ever. Yeah, you're a punk.
Your latest favorite game to play (other than Smacky Wacky, of course) is Hide-and-Seek. I had no idea how much fun playing Hide-and-Seek with an almost-three-year-old is. When it's your turn to be the Seeker, you dutifully cover your eyes and count to 10. You don't even seem to peek (at least I don't think you do). You've got the Seeker job down pat. Now the Hider job? You could use a little work. Actually don't. Don't work on it. You're a hilarious Hider. When I close my eyes and count to 10, you often tell me to count slower because you haven't gotten to your hiding place in [insert hiding place here]. And when I say "Ready or not, here I come!", you say "Momma! I'm in da [insert hiding place here]!!!" And when I come to the [insert hiding place here], the look on your face is priceless. You're legitimately surprised that I found you. You look like I'm the best Seeker EVER. And it's AWESOME. So yeah, don't ever become a better Hider.
My sweet little Puddin' Pop, I can't believe this is your last recap before you turn three. Because I'm pretty sure I gave birth to you yesterday. But that's silly. Because if I were to EVER give birth to a 37-pound baby, I certainly wouldn't be able (or alive) to write a hilariously witty (or mildly amusing) monthly recap. Thanks for rocking my world for the past three years. I had no idea that my world, in fact, NEEDED rocking. But it did. In a big way. And you did it.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
Headlines for January 1, 2012:
- Poll: Romney has slight lead over Paul in Iowa ahead of caucuses
- Times Square, world ring in 2012
- Woman donates kidney to her former boss
- Stolen monkey found scared but healthy
- Forecasters see bumpy ride, but better 2012
- Cops: Man tried to use $1,000,000 bill at Walmart