I wrote this 7 months ago. Not sure why I never posted it, but my have times changed:
On Saturday morning I was woken from a dead-to-the-world sleep by a loud voice blaring from the monitor:
MOMMA! WHERE ARE YOU?! GO DOWNSTAIRS!!
By the time I stumbled out of bed, grabbed my glasses and made a pit stop he was down to yelling Momma! while alternating with whining. When I walked in his room the whining cut right off and he sat up and said “Baby little crying.” Yup, sounds like it, kid. It was a cheerful morning so after we grabbed his two blankets he waved at his bed, saying “By crib, night-night,” then told me “Go downstairs!”
We settle on the couch to watch “elephant, giraffe, monkey” – an episode of Chuggington that has the aforementioned trio. We discuss “monkey scared?” and “train scared?” because they do indeed scare each other before all is resolved. Before the 30 minutes was up, he turned around on my lap to implore “fruuiiits?” with a sweet smile. Fruits are fruit snacks. When I say OK he slides down onto the floor, saying “I beat you!” as he runs for his little table and chair in the dining area. Up he climbs on the chair, pulling his table to him with a squeal on the hardwood floors.
I bring over a packet of fruit snacks along with his milk and water. He already knows to look for the little slice in the wrapper to pull open the package – I showed him once, and that’s all it took. He happily starts eating his fruits as I putter around the kitchen, asking “Do you want a banana? Some toast? Some crunchy cereal?” Sometimes he’ll respond “No, no, nooooo” and be perfectly happy with just Fruits, other times he wants it all, and often eats it all. Lately he asks for “pbutter toast?”
After breakfast we head upstairs so I can take a shower. Our bathroom holds a loud dumptruck, 4 pull-back cars, a set of three stacking cars, and a plastic piano that plinks like no-one’s business. I once gave him a set of hair chopsticks to use with the piano so he opens my drawer at the sink to dig those out as I remind him “Just the sticks. The rest isn’t for you to play with.” I’m still amazed this usually works.
I shower with the door open while he plays, often narrating his actions or singing as he plays on the piano…
Now Forrest is almost 3. He has his own bedroom and big-boy bed, we have a relatively stress-free bedtime (hard fought and hard won, and NEVER taken for granted!), and when he wakes up in the morning he runs upstairs to find me. Usually before 6:00am. Sigh.
He gets his own fruits now from the pantry, and sometimes his own crackers. If he could reach the cereal he could take care of that too. Same with the milk. I’m not ready for his complete access to a jug of milk…
He has a funny sense of humor, laughs at the pratfalls in his cartoons, and deliberately makes the wrong sound for the animals in his books, or says things like “E is for apple!” and laughs. He writes his numbers and the alphabet already. I find that shocking, but he often wants to play with sidewalk chalk when we get home in the evenings and often wants to write letters so we do. He also started drawing pictures of his own things – a bat! and elephant with one leg! A hippo, and those are his little eyes! He lives for playing outside, and we can let him play a bit on his own now with monitoring and a willingness to sweep all the gravel off the driveway.
He’s growing so fast. Every day he changes a little and grows more and makes life connections. I miss him from 7 months ago, I miss him as a tiny little guy, but I wouldn’t change now for anything.
We love you, Forrest!