What I've waited for for months has finally happened. You and Natalie now chase each other through the house. And it's beyond wonderful. You chase Natalie, and since she's quicker than you, she frequently laps you and then starts chasing you. Then you both get plagued by the same invisible trip-wire, fall to the floor, and giggle like a couple of loons. Seriously. It's beyond wonderful.
You are the huggiest and kissiest child I've ever met. Granted, my only other real exposure to children has been your sister and it took YEARS for her to give hugs and kisses. But you? All I do is open my arms and you walk as fast as your little uncoordinated legs will take you. You fling your arms around my neck and rest your head on my shoulder. And I effectively melt into a little Mommy puddle. You also love giving Natalie hugs. Your hugs to her often turn into tackles wherein both of you end up on the floor in a Pile o' Smithkids. And the kisses. OH the kisses. You give the most sweetest and slobberiest kisses this side of a Basset Hound. I try not to make a big deal about drying my face off after a Charlie Kiss. Your sister, on the other hand, squeals incessantly about your wet, slobbery kisses. She makes quite a production about wiping her face off. You think it's hee-larious.
So you definitely say a handful of words - Dadda, Momma, NaNa (banana or Natalie or snack or night-night, whichever fits the situation), ball (bowwwwwwwww), and bye-bye (complete with a wave). For a few days you said "beebee" (baby) but I haven't gotten you to do it again. You turn into Growly Bear when I ask you what a lion says. You say "ah ah ah" when I ask you what a monkey says. You yell "OOOOOOH" when I ask you what a cow says (apparently you don't care about the 'M' part of 'Moo'). You pant when I ask you what a dog says. You flap your arms when I ask what a chicken does (and then Natalie busts out with the Chicken Dance). I'm trying to get you to say "la la la" when I ask you what three singing pigs say (we love Sandra Boynton in this house).
You are fascinated with doors. Especially closing them. Which, in turn, sends your sister in a tizzy. Because if a door is shut and SHE didn't authorize the shut? Woo doggies. Watch out. When you shut a door, she loses all ability to remember that she knows how to OPEN the aforementioned closed door. She seems to think that if you shut a door (to a room that she's in), she'll be trapped forever and ever and never be able to get out for the rest of her life. Yeah. She's not dramatic at ALL.
So you grew two more teeth this month. Which means your poor cheeks and chin were raw and drool-covered for yet ANOTHER month. Seriously dude. Pick up the tooth-growing pace. It's killing me. You are a wet-faced, wet-necked, wet-nosed (your nose is super runny when you're teething), raw-fingered (you chew on your fingers when you're teething) mess who cries if the wind blows wrong across those swollen gums.
The 'Terrible Twos' is such a misnomer. I know of no momma whose kid didn't start tantrums until he/she turned two. And I'm no different. Natalie started her fits at about the age you are now. So it's only fitting that you follow suit. Her fits were more dramatic and loud. Your fits are textbook, throwing-yourself-face-down-on-the-floor-sobbing-into-the-carpet little gems. That last part rocks, by the way. The carpet muffles your sobs and it's not nearly as loud. So thanks for that. You don't do it often (about once or twice a day) and they don't last long (less than a minute), but they're over the most ridiculous things. I ask you to keep the blocks on the carpet and not to throw them at your sister. Cue faceplant-tantrum. I ask you to back up from the TV because standing 2" from it isn't good for your eyes. Cue faceplant-tantrum. I ask Natalie to get a tissue for me. Cue faceplant-tantrum. I have a hard time remembering that this is a tough age for you. Things that don't make sense to you or things that don't go how you want them to go really throw your world upside down. And since you don't have the vocabulary to talk about it, you faceplant. I truly feel, though, that if your mouth felt better, you'd handle some things (like me asking Natalie to get a tissue for me!) with a bit more grace. The takehome message is grow some teeth. And if you insist on throwing a tantrum, keep up with the faceplant part. It's much easier on my ears.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
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Headlines for April 9, 2013:
- Cardinal rule: Louisville wins NCAA men's title
- Annette Funicello, beloved Mouseketeer, dies at 70
- JC Penney ousts CEO after no-sales strategy flops
- Flight diverted after family complains about movie
- California hiker: Four days missing felt like a dream
- McConnell: I'll filibuster Obama's gun bill
