atomic mama

You are 22 months old!

You are learning new words every day. You love language like you love cheese. You practice your new words over and over again, even as I’m settling you into your crib for a nap. Your favorite word has changed from “no” to “Lina.” “No” is now only your second favorite word. Your father taught you how to say (and sign) “yes” recently. Before that, you’d been using an enthusiastic “Ahhhhhh!!” to represent “yes.” I kind of liked the Ahhhhh!!, but at the same time I did find it slightly condescending. And the way you say “yes” is supercute. Kind of like “yesh.”

You continue to deal with Cooper by telling her that she’s not allowed to bite, lick, touch, breathe on, or look in the general direction of anything that belongs to you. This is usually accomplished by your screaming “NOOO!!” at the top of your lungs while Cooper ignores you.

You have, apparently, met someone named “Elmo” at school. I patently refuse to buy anything emblazoned with commercial characters, with one notable exception. The diapers we buy you come festooned with Sesame Street images. I have no control over this. We get these diapers because they’re really good. (Just ask the folks over at Consumer Reports.) But yes, Elmo makes guest appearances on the waistband now and then. And recently, you recognized him. Gulp. Here we go. Let’s get one thing out of the way right now, sweet cheeks: N O H A P P Y M E A L.

I don’t care what your friends’ parents do. I really don’t.

Anyway, back to the present. You and your friend Gia are as thick as thieves. Gia and Lina. Lina and Gia. It’s pretty fabulous. When I picked you up from school the other day, each of you had one shoe on and one shoe off. The teacher was irritated, but I saw what you guys were doing, and I was proud of you. I saw your smiles. You were bonding by being a little bit rebellious together. You and Gia are the cool girls at school. Don’t you forget it.

I love you, lumpkin. I know that sometimes you think I love Cooper more, but I promise you that I don’t. You are my one-and-only. My Most. My Best. My Little. My Strawberry Shortstuff.

My Monster. My Baby.

Love, Mama

This entry was posted on Monday, January 8th, 2007 at 22:38 and is filed under stephanie. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.