My dear child, I can't wait to wake you up in the mornings, it's my favorite part of the day, though I let you sleep as long as possible, which is we don't have to go anywhere is normally around 9:00. And then you keep me busy eating breakfast and playing (with your babies, in Farrah's kitchen, outside swinging or jumping or playing with bubbles) until your beloved nap time around noon which lasts 3 or so hours, which sometimes is my favorite part of the day. Then I am always so excited to spend more time with you. Waking you back up is my favorite part of the day, and stay busy far into the evening playing and doing and talking and going. Then we try to cram in back, sometimes, and supper. I make noises with each bite I'm feeding you, after you've eaten a couple bites on your own and announced that you're "all done" to make eating fun. You eat all your food that way. Then when it's bedtime, we rock. That's after you've talked Daddy into watching "Roar" in our bed. When we rock, it usually means we talk and talk and talk until I have to hush you and eventually ignore responding in hopes you'll get sleepy. And then you, and "Farrah sleep in mommy's arms" like you always say, and it's my favorite part of the day. You ask, "Mommy rock you hmmm" so I will hum and rock.
You usually have some milk, you always have Lambie, we usually begin with baby in her jammas but sometimes she gets heavy and we put her down, you sometimes have a blanket and your stuffed pig with a blanket. You sleep wonderfully, except you talk in your sleep and you usually hollar and cry out, "noooo, daddy" or "mommy, stop it." The other night I walked in to check on you and you sat up and said, "Kylie did it!" and you were telling Kaden to stop it in your sleep last night.
Our conversation the other night went like this. I readjusted your head and kissed you nose and you said "ugga mugga." We ugga mugga'd and you said "Farrah Mommy happy" (translation: Farrah makes Mommy happy). Then you said "cheeky" as you rubbed your little fingers daintily along the edge of my face.
Your sentences are coming together. "No, I try'ning." "Farrah cry'ning." "I see it too!" "Mommy, whas is it?" "Daddy, help you?" "Mommy, hold you." "Awww, so tute!"
You also said "Baby Lunden nink milk Baby Lunden Mommy boobies."
You know your colors. Except you usually call red "green" which makes me wonder if you're color blind. You count "2-5-6-7-8-9-10!" You know "abc-wx-y-next time" and you still use your left hand
predominantly. You love putting lotion on yourself and on us. You love to draw. You love to open and shut doors and tell us goodbye and then say, "Farrah here, everybody."
Anything you're trying to describe in small/quiet/short terms is "baby one." When the radio is turned down, it's baby one. When you want me to rock you slow, it's baby one. When I'm trying to convince you to take a nap or bath and you want to take a short one, it's baby one.
Some of my favorite sayings:
Op-it // open it
Oh gosh // oh my gosh
Abe Charlie's house // daycare
Brush 'em // toothbrush
Strawbees // strawberries
Doobie // tickle
It's funny how much I realize what I say when I hear you say it, like the way I put sunscreen on your cheekies, and you told your baby doll, "Baby, hold on. Farrah almost done."
Yes, the terrible two's have begun, you grunt at all people in public who try to speak to you, and those that don't, you usually holler out a "hi!" But we'll make it through this stage just as we did the crying baby stage, and the same way we'll get through the upcoming attitudes and rebellion stages. We love you so.
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