Last night you woke up with fever dreams, yelling “Light! Light” as soon as I walked in your room but no, it was 2:00am and there was no way I was going to turn on a light. So I picked you up, all long and lean 26 pounds of you and you flopped limp like spaghetti on my shoulder as I grabbed a blankie to drape your shoulders. I stood there rocking a few moments, avoiding the piles of foam letters on the floor from earlier because they’re loud as they drag and bump and debating if I should clean off the rocker with my foot because I left it full of fabric and yarn while you destroyed the foam-letter floor earlier, or if we should go out to sit on the couch in the other room until you settled back in to sleep. We went out to the couch, you and I in the wee hours of morning, trying to find a comfortable spot and the right level of covers as I fretted that you were so very warm, little guy, and you snorted your way through your current cold. I dozed for a bit, waking up to your relative calm so I gathered you up and stood to take you back to your room – you burst out with a string of gibberish and waving arms, but you still went back to bed, wiggling around a couple of times and fretting a bit yourself until you dropped off and I went back to bed at 3:45. 30 minutes later you were crying again but you stopped by the time I dragged on clothes and made it back to your room to tiptoe in (avoiding the piles of foam letters that are almost invisible under dim night lights) and check on you. Then I went out to sleep the next hour on the couch before my day was scheduled to begin.
We’re off for an adventure this weekend, staying in a hotel in Seaside so Mommy can spend a day painting tomorrow with Alisa. I’m so excited. I’m wondering how you and your Daddy will fare together for the day, without all the comforts of home, and debating how much reminding I should do about activities and eating and sunscreen. He’s a good Daddy, he’ll figure it out. We dropped Kate the Dog off at the kennel this morning and you spent the rest of the drive in to daycare asking every so often, “Dog-dog? Dog-dog?” So we told you each time She’s at doggy daycare, playing with all of her friends! but I’m not sure you believed us.
As you approach 21-months-old you’re becoming daily your own little person, a real person separate from Mommy and Daddy and Baby. You tell us about your day so often and we can almost, just about understand you some of the time. You LOVE to “coror” with a passion, wanting us to draw stars and bumble bees that you can scribble over with glee. And after getting in trouble for coloring on the chair you tell me now “no, no coror” while you point to the chair and do it again. Of course. You’ve finally started saying no when you don’t want something and nodding yes when you do. I’m sorry we don’t always listen to your No but I hope you’ll understand one day that we listened when we could and didn’t when we couldn’t. I promise we have your best interest to heart.
Here’s to a weekend adventure, baby boy. Here’s to a Happy Friday and a Happy Day of Painting and Playing tomorrow. We love you.