Dear Mia: Part 11

You are almost 21 months old now, and I have to say this age is HARD. You are naughty with little concept of consequences. You hit, you kick, you bite, you throw things. You follow directions one minute, then completely ignore me the next. I am realizing that this age is as much a test for me, and a learning experience for me, as it is for you. I sometimes expect a bit too much of you because of how bright you are, I forget how young you still are. But even so, sometimes taking you out in public is like going out with a drunk girlfriend. I know you KNOW how to behave, but for the moment you are short on the resources to do so.

I also realize that any naughty behavior is purely for attention at this point, in fact, if you are being naughty while I am not in the room you will tattle on yourself, shouting, "Mia standing on chair!" which you know you're not supposed to do.

You ask "Wuh-sat?" about everything, even things you know. A million times a day I am answering "What IS that? Do you know?" And now it was morphed into "Wuh-sat, right dere?" usually said while pointing at a total stranger in the grocery store. Or "Wuh-sat -blank- doin?" Which is actually pretty funny, like the other day when you pointed to the button on my coat and said "Wuh-sat button doin?" 

We talk about Christmas a lot, and my genius idea was to take you to see the mall Santa several times in the hopes that you would eventually sit on his lap for a picture, but it has totally backfired as we've been three times now and you just seem to get more scared of him every time. The first time you walked right up and high fives him. The second time you walked right up, but stood in front of him shaking with fear, and the third time you wouldn't even wave to him as we walked past. In fact you often mutter to yourself, "Sit Santa's lap?" And then shake your head with a scowl, "No. No. No."

You are, however obsessed with Rudolph which you only refer to as "Roof-off Red-nose Reindeer Had Shiny Noooooooose." You command me to sing it several times an hour, and can finish each line yourself. If we hear it on the radio you shout with glee (see what I did there?) as if it is playing just for you. You love your Christmas pajamas that have reindeer on the feet and request I put them on you at every diaper change. You call them your "Roof-off Jams."

You sit for hours a day looking at your books. You love going to the library, sitting at the little tables and chairs and having an infinite selection to flip through. You are very into the Clifford books right now, having completely dogeared the two books we own. Whenever we visit someone else's house you seem to have a radar that hones in on where they keep the children's books and are happy to sit reading, ignoring the chaos around you. One of my favorite things in life is listening to you read books to yourself. It only takes one or two readings by us for you to essentially memorize the book and repeat it to yourself in your own little abridged language while flipping the appropriate pages.

On the flip side, the most annoying thing you do is repeat EVERYTHING you say until someone acknowledges you (in fact, as I write this I realize your dad does the same thing), and, girlfriend, you feel the need to narrate everything. I spend my entire day saying, "Yes, Elmo is red. Yes, I see you looking out the window. Yes, I HEAR Rudolph on the radio." And God help us all if your dad and I are trying to have a conversation in your presence because you will just repeat yourself until you turn blue in the face.

You are not a dancer. You love music and singing. You love jumping and climbing. You live drawing and painting, but you don't dance. This is weird to me because I can't help but tap my foot to any beat I hear and your dad likes to dance too. I just thought this was interesting to note.

Your favorite toys are probably your stuffed animals which we call your buddies.Your favorite is probably your Minnie Mouse whom you carry all over the house talking to. In fact, she is becoming your scapegoat sometimes for naughty things you know you aren't supposed to do. I hear your little voice in the other room saying, "Minnie touch Daddy's treats?" as I hear rustling in the candy bowl I thought was out of your reach, and I catch you holding Minnie up so her hand is in the bowl.

 You have become a somewhat better eater over the last couple of weeks (or maybe I have just lowered my standards). In fact, I've gotten you to eat some carrots and spinach in the last week. Some of your favorite foods are instant oatmeal, vegetarian "chicken" nuggets, yogurt, blueberries, beans, milk, peanut butter, pancakes, bacon, not mention any sweets you can get your hands on.

You are learning your colors. You cannot make hard "c" and "k" sounds. You often refer to yourself as "Mia Bo Bia." You call the hood on your coat a "neighborhood," which I totally perpetuate because I think it's awesome. You love to be tickled. You shriek with joy whenever your dad comes home from work. You are still an early bird, chirping happily at 6am every morning. You love slides. You are currently a little afraid of the shower after accidentally turning the showerhead on during bathtime.

There are some horrible, scary things going on in the world right now, my love, and my own mother tells me the only way to cope is to pull every one I love closer to me, so excuse me if I smother you with kisses and blow raspberries on your belly every hour on the hour. You are my heart personified, and I don't know what I would do if harm ever came to you, so all I can do is tell you I love you a million times a day. All I can do is hope that you know how much love surrounds you, because it is a whole lot. A whole lot, little one.