More than anything I hope you will grow up to be a compassionate person. I hope you can learn patience and understanding, too. If you do, then I know you’ll forgive my missing last month. If not, I apologize that your Mother is sometimes forgetful, sometimes procrastinative, sometimes lazy. Sometimes she makes up words, too. Yay creativity!
The past few months have continued to be a slow drive through a lovely countryside, with the occasional tunnel through hell. You’re wonderful and brilliant and because I don’t have other kids around to compare you to I expect more from you. More than I should. Every few months I freak out and run for developmental milestone charts and am reminded just how peculiarly ahead of the game you are in your own way. Thankfully your evil-3-year-old-ness has been slowly easing up, and we may be entering the wonderland that is the non-evil-3-year-old. I’ve heard that 3 year olds, you see, spend 6 months being crabby jerks and 6 months being delightful. This is why, in the recent past, Daddy and myself have been drinking a lot earlier in the day and eating way too much junk food. You, however, drink earlier than even we do…
Things have been improving, though. You’re still not eating much, but don’t fight as hard with some foods that we make you feed yourself (given how much you loathe having any “dirtyness” on your hands, this is a big improvement). Your communication skills have been improving a lot, and we hear much more adult conversation from you – or at least, english – most of the time. You’ve realized that you don’t hate the sound of Mommy singing as much as you thought you did, and that songs can be fun to sing all on your own, too. I’ve caught you singing along with the tele or up in the playroom to your toys.Sadly, mention of the playroom makes me think about the latest thing… it’s broken my heart repeatedly, lately to hear you playing with your toys. You talk while you play and I hear you chastising them the same way I/we chastise you. You use the same tone, the same words, the same repetitions that we use with you to correct your behavior. More than I can express, I hate that. I appreciate and understand why it makes an impression on you, but I hate that it’s made so much of an impression, even if it’s only temporary. I’m soothed, some, when you continue on and tell your toys to love each other and wish them good night and have them play nicely in the same way we do you, but still. I hope, with the passage of time, the love will far out weigh the frustrations.
We had Christmas, recently, and your Father and I decided that since you started to understand the concept of presents that we’re going to work a bit harder next year to make Christmas more magical. I’m already excited about it, and hope to practice things like baking cookies with you in advance.The thing I’m most grateful for in you is your personality. You’re such a goofball, my son, and I just love that. I love how silly you are and how readily you laugh at yourself and at the world. I love knowing how desperately, deliriously funny you found mommy’s toe-socks, and how damned-proud you were that you pulled them on by yourself. I love remembering seeing you run around the living room with your pants hiked up, waiting for us to notice, and how much we all laughed.
