You Are My Licorice: Letters to Emmeline : Eighteen Months

May 12 to June 12, 2015

Emmeline,

Hey, you, toddler who is now officially one and a half. And who will be two in SIX MONTHS. I don't want to think about that for many reasons, including because when you turn two it will be a) December and b) cold as heck and c) just 13 days away from Christmas.

You are such a little riot. You're hilarious. And such a spitfire. SUCH a spitfire. Like, girl, you are full of opinions and attitude up the wazoo. It's pretty amazing to see from such a tiny person who doesn't talk. You know what you want, you make it VERY clear even without words, and lord help us all if you don't get it. The squeals that you emit could shatter glass and you will drop to the floor in a tantrum in half a second flat.

On the other hand, as long as things are going your way, you're just pure sunshine. Your giggles and smiles could turn around the worst day. And there is so much that makes you smile. The other day, you and your sister were swinging and she started kicking her legs so you started kicking your legs and you both just started giggling and giggling and giggling and it was the happiest sound in the world.

I've mentioned it before, but you are just determined to do absolutely everything that we do. When I sweep, you want to hold the dustpan. When I do dishes, you want to put in the detergent and take the dishes out and put the dishes in. When I am putting laundry in the basket, you bring me clothes. If Carys rides her bike, you want to ride her bike. Any activity we do, you want to be a part of as well. I love it but let's be real, it makes me sad at the same time - you're my baby! You aren't supposed to be doing these big kid things yet!

You just started to really love to play dress up, and you're always waltzing out of the playroom with a wig or a hat or a skirt on. You're even starting to have an opinion about what clothes I put on you, and I'm kind of mourning the loss of my ability to dress a kid from head to toe in whatever outfit I pick out.

There are so many hilarious, adorable things that you do each day and I love discovering new talents and abilities that you've gained. You love to tickle people, and to have your toes tickled. You're learning more and more body parts. You heard me say "Elmo" and you grabbed your elbows, you brilliant girl. You climb up and go down the spiral slide at the park for thirty solid minutes (then beg to go on the swings for another thirty). You found one of Carys's Calico Critter babies - with a cradle - and you carry it around and say "shhh, shhh." Any time you see a child in a stroller, you yell "bah bah!", even if they're bigger than you are.

We're not talking about sleep because the second I mention it, it gets worse. So we'll just say it's better. Not perfect, but better. MUCH better. Thank you, lord.

While you ARE sleeping, you're not, um, eating. Kind of an important habit. I'm pretty sure you subsist on crackers, bread, and bananas, with an occasional bite of meat. You won't eat a vegetable any other fruit to save your life (like literally, if you were stranded on a desert island with carrots and blueberries, you'd starve). You do enjoy cheerios off the floor as I'm sweeping them up. Delightful.

You absolutely love to read books, especially any with flaps. We read ten books in a row before I had to stop and force you to take a nap because you were falling asleep in my arms, but you still wanted to read. more. books! (Which you told me by signing "more, more, more!" and then my heart melted into a giant puddle.)

You're still nursing. I don't see that stopping anytime soon, but I'm ready the second you are. It's been a long four and a half years of being pregnant or nursing with only a one or two month break between the two. I'm not going to force it on you yet, but feel free to cut back to like twice a day instead of 100 times a day any time. Except, see above, I'm worried you'd starve if I stopped.

You started going to daycare at Carys's "big kid" (as we call it) daycare. I'm not sure yet how it's going, but it's so fun seeing Carys get to walk you into your room. She loves giving you a hug and a kiss and often tells me about how much she loves seeing you throughout the day - although that cuts both ways, because your teachers have said that you love seeing her, too, except then you cry when you can't stay with her. Break my heart, kiddo!

You had an allergy appointment at the beginning of June in response to a rash of allergic reactions you had back in April and May. You got terrible hives, and I have no idea what caused them. It took three months to get you into this allergy specialist, and they agreed it was hives and decided to do a blood test to see if they could find anything that might be causing the reactions. I'm waiting on the call and am just hoping it's nothing severe (and the blood test might not show anything - false negatives aren't uncommon with this blood test). So we'll see what happens there, and fingers crossed it's nothing too severe.

We did the Summer Arts Festival, the Children's Museums, and playdates. We went to the Spring/Summer festival at Carys's school, where you bounced on a bounce house for most of the time and ate a literal ton of cotton candy. The three of us plus Nana went to Browneville, Nebraska, for a flea market billed as the world's largest, where you adopted a bag of kettle corn and cuddled it like a doll. We babysat my parent's dog, Toby, and you couldn't have been more excited about having a dog around. We're still doing swim class, and every class you do better and try to swim away from me more. We've been taking walks up to the park almost daily, and walking to the local ice cream parlor weekly.