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Thursday, September 30, 2010


Dear Asa,

We just went to your 18 month well visit and you, my friend, are a big kid! In the 100th percentile for weight and height (at 30 lbs and 34 inches) you're tipping the scales and the charts. Of course I could of told the doc just as well that you are back-breakingly big. Size 7 kicks and a big 2T in the wardrobe, you have left your baby clothes far behind. Now you wear sneakers that lace up and jeans that have tiny worn holes in the knee. You have a rats nest of bed-hair smack dab in back of your head every morning and you still want your blanket when you go to bed every night.

(Running to your beloved tractor)

You've been saying "bye" for a while now but "hi" finally made it into the mix this month. Before "hi" you used "bye" as a greeting, though it wasn't always obvious to other people. As soon as someone would walk in the door (or catch your eye walking down the isle at the store, or pass you on the sidewalk, or...) you wave right at them, loudly shouting "bye!" as if to say "leave!". Very rude indeed. "Bye" still seems to be favored, but "hi" gets in there now and again. Especially, for some reason to inanimate objects like rocks and garden gnomes. "Hiiiiii! Hiiiii!"

(Surveying the scene from the tractor)

"No" is another word that's been changing. You've said no for a while now (of course you have) but now it's got a little drama to it. If you drop your apple or trip or something of the like you throw your hands up and shout "Oh noooooooooo!!!" with all the theatrical exuberance you can muster. I still makes me laugh every time.

("Let's get this thing moving!")

We moved into a new home this month, and you didn't even skip a beat. You love it, and so do we. The yard out back has already provided hours and hours of entertainment. One of your favorite things to do these days is walk out into the garden and pick tomatoes off the vine. You shovel them into your mouth, seeds and juice dripping down your cheeks. Delicious and fun. As funny as it may sound, your favorite room in the house is the basement. But the reason why is obvious. Drum kit. The previous tenants couldn't pack it with them and when they asked if it'd be ok to store it in the basement it was just too perfect. We left it set up down there and you take yourself for a few practices a day. Your uncle Dalbo would be very proud.

("Vroom, vroom!")

Separation anxiety and frustrations also played a big roll this month. It was... challenging, to say the least. And continues to be. We're at this strange point where Independence, defiance and fear seem to mix in with new intelligence, added energy and a little extra defiance for good measure. That is to say, you fight me on nearly everything these days, but just for the sake of fighting. Changing diapers, or clothes, getting into the car, sitting in that cart at the grocery store, holding my hand while walking down the sidewalk, riding in your stroller, eating, baths. The list really could go on and on. You fight it all. And whats interesting is that in the midst of all this fighting me, resisting me and anger towards me, you want me and only me. All. The. Time. "Mama, mama, my mama, MY MAMA!" you shout over and over and over. I hear it from the shower, the kitchen, the car as I'm pulling out of the driveway to take a 3 minute vacation to the grocery store. It's pretty incredible. Sometimes you're worked up about it when I'm still there. Like you're just sure I'm going to leave. At dance class last week (that's a parent-toddler class, I'm there the whole time, running, jumping and twisting with you) you were nearly in tears the whole time. Holding my hand or in my arms, watery eyes searching wildly with "mama, mama, mama?!" 's every few minutes. Maybe it was the other kids and parents making you nervous? Or maybe you thought I was going to go? Whatever the case, it was tough. But we're heading back next week to give it another go. It's new for both of us love, this (mutual) defiance and frustration, and we'll figure it out as we go.

(Roger takes you for your first tractor ride)

Your favorite thing to eat these days is pasta. Any type of noodle really, so long as it has red sauce on it. Much like your aunt Marleigh though you much prefer your grandma's putenesca sauce. You'll eat three helpings or more of that one! You feed yourself totally on your own, aside from the occasional accepted spoonful from mom or dad's plate. You jump now, two feet of the ground and it pleases you to no end. You ask for your dad when he goes away and you prefer to sort of growl your favorite words, especially tractor. . You love your Eric Carle books with all the different animals and you love to watch birds ("boods") fly past our new big living room window. You are a bit more boyish, a little more big-kid every, single day. Sometimes I turn around and catch a glimmer in your eye, a smirk on your cheek and I see the man you will grow to be. Then I try my best not to blubber to loudly.



Emily Richardson said...

Such lovely writing, Lichey. And so many wonderful moments I remember! The call for Mama will never stop, by the way :) Funny that Asa's favourite food is pasta with red sauce. That is a staple in our house. "Macarona bi tuna" with red sauce! We have just planted a vegetable garden with lots of tomatoes and can't wait for Asa to come and eat some straight off the vine. xxx

bessie stewart said...

love you three! what a great big boy! and a great momma too.
kisses from
monty griffin and bess



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