27 Months

Dear Jacob,

You are 27 months today and Holy Crap! The toddler has landed and is unprotected. Repeat, the toddler has landed. In the bed. With no bars. After freaking out at the prospect of not just "playing" night night in your new bed (Without! Bars! Crib! Now! Mama!), you went down in your new bed tonight. And as of now, 8:51 pm, PST, there is silence, which I'm only going to assume means sleeping, since I'm not going to even THINK about checking and potentially waking that little dragon. Jacob, I've been terrible with your lovely Pooh Bear Baby Book, but I hope that this will make up for it somehow. Tonight, you took one more step into the big boy pool.

Sigh.

What next? Pooping in the potty? Tying your own shoes? College? Luckily, there's another one coming soon and it starts all over again. Just kidding. Keiki will never replace you in my heart. Hearts are like balloons, real ones, not the cardboard ones they have on the walls at Trader Joe's that you like so much. Hearts (the abstract love kind, not the ventricular kind) expand and expand, and they never explode, although sometimes with you, it sure feels that my heart may do just that.

I love your new expressiveness, the expansion of your sentences. I love that you say things like, "My mommy, my mommy" when you want me, and when I sing, "I love Ja-cob," you ape me right back: "I luff Mo-mmy!". I love that you lift up my shirt when I read you stories so you can get really close to Keiki, and sometimes your figeting feels like you just can't get close enough, as if you are trying to crawl into my belly. By the way, that's how I felt when I first fell in love with Daddy, like there was no level of physical closeness that could be enough, that I wanted crawl inside him and curl up like a baby, so I totally know how you feel.

This week, we've spent more time on projects, like Play Dough, building with Duplos, and coloring in your coloring book. I've noticed that while you are pretty good at independent play, you always prefer Daddy or me to create for you while you watch. It seems like you are frustrated by your lack of skill and are somewhat of a perfectionist. Dude, you are only two! I only learned how to color in the lines in the last year or so.

I worry about this early sign of self-consciousness. How can I teach you that your scribbles are beautiful, that your lopsided towers are amazing? Luckily, you still eat food off the floor before I can catch you, so I don't have to worry about you too much.

All in all, you are a fabulous kid. Although, any thought to expanding your palate from yogurt, clementines, hot dogs, blueberries and pancakes? I dunno, a green veggie here or there? I'm just sayin'. . .

Love,

Mama