August 7 - September 7, 2012Dear Carys,
Seriously, kid. I LOVE YOU. My heart swells when I look at you and see this amazing little person you've become. You are just the happiest, silliest, most loving, goofiest, smartest, cutest child ever (says every mother about their child) (but I MEAN it! Even more! [Again: just like every other mother ever.]).
You are so solidly a little girl, it's ridiculous. There is very little trace of the baby from just a few months ago; I have to hunt for it in fleeting moments and movements. Your dad just got back today from being out of town for a week and said he's sure you three inches taller.
These letters get harder and harder to write, because all I want to write about is how adorable you are and how fun you are and how (usually) happy you are and that you're a daredevil and you love people and animals and you're getting so big. Last month was hard, but all I can say about that is that his month was much better, and I hope you never again grow molars.
Let's run down your list of adorable-ness, shall we?
If I say, "Let's change your diaper!" you will walk to your room, pick out your own diaper, lay it out, and then lay down on top of it.
You know the signs for "eat," "up," "more," "all done," "milk," and "please." Which is every single sign I've taught you! I need to pull out the book and add some more to our repertoire. You sign "more" in conjunction with "please" all the time. More please! More please! Please more! When you first signed "more," you pointed with one index finger to the palm of your other hand (a common "baby" version). A couple weeks ago, if I repeated "More?" and signed the right way, you'd screw up your little face in concentration, stare at your fingers, and slowly and deliberately do it the right way, and now you do it the right way always. I love signing with you, and I love when people are so amazed to see you communicate so clearly.
Sweet girl brought me a "flower."
If I ask you if you want to eat, you'll go to the kitchen and try to climb in your high chair. If you're hungry, you'll sign "eat" and get a bib out and try to put it on. You'll also open the pantry door and help yourself to one of your fruit/veggie pouches, which you recently learned to open.
You regularly walk a half mile (about eight short ends of blocks) during our walks. You LOVE walking. You will try to put the harness on Riley or bring me his leash when you want to go on walks. If I let you out the front door, you're off and down the block before I can blink. I still love to take walks with my mom; I hope you and I continue that tradition and walk together for a long time.
You recently dropped your second nap, and now instead of two two-hour naps, you take one three-hour nap. I want that extra hour back! That was my showering hour! Now I have to sacrifice precious, um, Facebook time to shower (for shame).
You also will let me lay you down wide awake and will put yourself to sleep. Like sleeping through the night, it happened on your terms and when you were ready and with no crying - and even knowing that, I'm still a little sad about it, because I miss rocking with you while the weight of you is pressed against my chest. In fact, writing this makes me want to go pick you up from your crib just to have you fall back asleep against me with the top of your head nuzzled into my neck and your sweet-smelling baby hair tickling my nose. Best feeling pretty much ever. EVER I TELL YOU.
You learned to spin around in circles and laugh deliriously at the dizziness. Need I say how adorable that is?
You could eat an entire order of edamame yourself, and three or four sushi rolls. Including raw fish! That's my girl. (Your other favorite right now? Grapes. And tomatoes, which you eat like apples. Weirdo.)
The dog is your very best friend in the world. You love Riley so much, and often I'll find you sitting next to him, laying on him, and you give him hugs all day long.
I took you to the humane society to see the animals, and you
loved peeking through the cracks at all of the different dogs.
In addition to Riley, you love goats, and are pretty sure they are dogs. We pick up the CSA share each week, and you love chasing around the animals at the farm. When you see the goats, you say "Doggie! Doggie! Doggie!"
You still are such a huge people person. In your mind, everyone is your best friend. Stranger danger doesn't exist in your mind. There's a bright, cheerful "hi!" and toothy grin for everyone that crosses your path. Sometimes you'll act shy for a moment and hide behind my legs or bury your head in my shoulder, but within seconds you'll be peeking out and smiling at them. You are so interested in everyone and everything. You watch our neighbors out the window like a creeper. If we go out to eat and set you down for a moment, you'll walk up to each table to chat. You really like to gift people some object, usually one that you took from them in the first place, but it's the thought that counts, right?
This isn't an accomplishment of yours, but it is one of mine: we're still breastfeeding! We have cut it back quite a bit during the day and, in the last few days, at night, but we still nurse a few times a day. The first time you read this letter you'll probably be disgusted and pretend you never read this paragraph, but one day, you'll realize how damn awesome it is. Probably when you have a kid of your own. It's amazing how much suddenly makes sense then. (I love you, mom!)
We went to the zoo with your dad for the first time (though you've been many times before with me), and you loved it even more than usual. You loved the animals and you loved the people but most of all, you loved being with your dad. And he loved experiencing it with you! We took you on both the train and the Skyfari and you loved both of those too. There was nothing beneath your feet during the Skyfari and we were three or four stories up, and you loved swinging your feet and looking down and yes, even trying to slip out of our arms to jump off. I have no doubt you'll be skydiving by your fifth birthday.
I'm pretty sure I've talked about your daredevil nature in every single letter, so I'll just say: yep.
You are so YOU, Carys. You are such an fun, happy, independent, creative, feisty, unique little girl. You have all these amazing traits and habits and ticks that make you who you are, and I want to remember every detail about each one (the way you flap your arms and sigh...the way you have started saying "oooh!" when you find my bellybutton, the tilt of your head when you are being silly....). You are going through a rough age right now, what with dropping a nap, getting molars, and trying to hard to communicate to someone who is just a total idiot and cannot always understand what you're so obviously saying (that someone is me), but you're pushing through with aplomb. I've only wanted to sell you to the Gypsies once! And even then I was mostly joking. I cannot express how much I adore hanging out with you and spending time with you. We are so blessed to have such an easy kid. If we're ever lucky enough to give you brothers and sisters and they're all as easy as you are....I might be trying to convince your dad for an even dozen kids.
Love you beyond measure, little one.