November 19, 2014 by Heather
Let me first stress to you the importance of half-birthdays. Your father will not and may never get behind the idea, but I will always remember it because my mom always remembers mine. There will be no presents or party (unless dad’s out of town), but I promise I will always celebrate it by at least telling you “Happy Half Birthday.” Yours was this past weekend, and mine was the weekend before that! Any reason to celebrate is a reason to celebrate, you can put that on a t-shirt.
So, Happy Half Birthday, you terrible two-and-a-half-year-old. I say terrible with all the love I possess, and only because everyone else says it’s terrible so that makes it okay. I will say, there is much truth to it. HOWEVER, it is also hilarious, wonderful, and miraculous — all of which outweigh any amount of terribleness. Most days.
These letters/updates are becoming fewer and further between, because you are practically a grown man now and I’m working so very hard and fast to keep up with you, which leaves little room for me to sit down and write out all that you like/dislike and post 76 photos. I love more than anything being able to go back and read old ones, so I’ll try to keep up with it as much as I can. Perhaps they will become semi-annual posts. Or annual.
Things you like to do:
Watch “animals,” or television. Back when you were enamored with Baby Einstein we just called it “animals,” so now you think that’s the name of any show. Your favorite is Ni Hao Ki Lan, or however it’s spelled. Also Blue’s Clues. Fortunately, I can tolerate both.
GO TO PUGGLES WITH MEMUM. (translation: Awanas on Wednesday nights with Andrew’s mom).
Play in your room with dad – shoot basketballs, play hide-and-go-seek, anything.
Look at tractors, motorcycles, lawn mowers, big trucks, trains, airplanes.
Go to basketball games and see Egbert the Eagle, who you are both scared of and madly in love with.
Things you don’t like to do:
Use the potty at Walmart because of the super loud automatic flush. I don’t blame you. I can barely use it myself.
Receive help from anyone when trying to do anything. Mister Independent.
Have Mayfield sit in your lap.
I mentioned going potty — a few words on the training of it. It’s slow-going, but steady. You prefer to use the “big poppy” (ha) and you only go numero uno right now. We alternate between pull-ups and boxer briefs (I die), and I should probably be way more hardcore with the briefs but we’ll get there. You’re doing a great job and I am so proud and in no rush.
Also, I have to say this because I want to preserve the memory… a few weeks ago you were on this elephant kick because of the circus we went to, which led to you referring to your parts as an “elephant,” I’m guessing because of the trunk? I don’t know. Either way, you decided it would be hilarious to spray it around and make an elephant sound while you went potty. I’m laughing now, but I wasn’t laughing then. Ok maybe I did a little bit, after I changed shirts.
My favorite thing right now is how much you talk. You speak in sentences and are so good at saying exactly what you need or want or feel. Sometimes you say way too many words, I think just because you like to see how they all sound together. Like instead of just saying “car” you say “silver car,” or “mommy’s silver car.”
Just this past week you started saying the funniest thing. You’ll come up and say “Parker’s hungry,” but you pronounce hungry like you are saying the French name Henri. You sort of keep your mouth open and roll the “n” and “r” together on the back of your tongue. It is really funny and your dad wants to correct it and I’m like DON’T YOU DARE. You know how to say it correctly, but I think you just like how it feels saying it the French way.
You love to watch this little Japanese cartoon called Ni Hao Ki Lan, where they talk a lot about feelings and emotions. For a while you kept coming up to us and saying that your heart was super happy, and I finally realized it was coming from this show. It’s precious when you say it, although you tend to say it at really odd times, like in the middle of a tantrum. Which makes it downright hilarious.
You’ve just begun to understand how not-fun bedtime is. Someday, my dear boy, you will long for bedtime. Until then, we will continue to not read one more book and not get one more snack and not brush your teeth one more time. You aren’t fooling us. We’re grownups.
Let’s talk sports. Namely, basketball games at the college. Last year we dreaded taking you to games because all we did was chase you around and you would get so cranky. This year, you are so mesmerized by the mascot that you will sit completely still for a pretty long time (i.e.: more than 5 minutes). The season has only just started, so we’ll see how it goes, but right now it’s nice. You are simultaneously terrified and over the moon when you see Egbert, but I think the fear has the upper hand because as soon as we walk into the gym you want to be held (“hold you, hold you”) and start looking around wildly. It’s really cute. I feel like as your mother I shouldn’t enjoy you being scared of something, but I think it’s ok this once. It’s a healthy fear.
This thing is over a thousand words so I’m gonna wrap it up. Geez.
I love you, I love you, I love you. From the tip of your perfect head to the bottom of those stinky feet. You bring me more joy and frustration in one moment than I’ve ever experienced in my life, and I feel so lucky to have you. I’m proud of you and I would crush the biggest spider in the world for you with my bare hand, which is saying an awful lot.
P.S. STOP PUTTING YOUR FOOD IN YOUR HAIR. I’M NOT EVEN PLAYING.