Gracie Lou, you are just over 21 months old now, and all at once I wonder how it can be that you are almost two and also you are so obviously almost two.
You speak in complete sentences and paragraphs now. It happened so fast. Yesterday you wandered into a room with no pants on, and I asked you why you took off your pants. You answered, "Because I didn't want my pants on." And my mind was completely blown. A year ago you were a blob, and now you are a complete person. A person who can express herself, and does so, loudly. If I don't respond to you the very first time you ask for something you start screaming your demand over and over until you get a response.
If I ask you what you want to eat or ask you to decide between two things, you answer, "I like.... ummm..." Or if you want something, you come up to me and say, "Mommy, I like (insert request here: milk, fruit, etc)."
You are a fish. You just love to be in the water. I love that you and your sister are both water babies. You used to spend all your time in the water attempting to get away from whomever was holding you and getting frustrated. This summer we put you in a floaty and you are so happy to motor around on your own.
We went camping this past weekend and you would have spent all day playing in the brook, throwing rocks, showing me rocks and splashing around. Whenever we go on a trip, I'm always concerned about how you will sleep, but you slept like a champ, even in a noisy campground and through a thunder storm.
You and your sister play together a lot. You do butt heads, but you play nicely more often than not. Mia comes up with pretend scenarios and you follow her around enacting whatever she demands. You are definitely not a doormat, though, and speak up (sometimes hitting or yelling) if you don't want to do what she's insisting of you. You parrot everything she says and want to do everything she does. You have a hard time with her doing things you can't do. "Me go too!" is heard a lot if Mia gets to go somewhere without you. When Mia spent the night at Grandma and Grandpa's house, you insisted on packing your toothbrush in a little bag too.
You love to color. You never sit still to watch TV for more than 5 minutes at a time. You love your dolls and stuffed animals. You would sit in a swing all day if someone would keep pushing you. You give the best hugs, including a little back rub. You refer to yourself as "Dassie." You are such a little helper, always dragging a little chair over to the kitchen counter to try to help cooking. You love to help bring in the groceries and clean up your toys. You want to do everything "self" - getting dressed, putting on your shoes, brushing your teeth, going up and down stairs. When you don't know the word for something you point and say, "Dis, mommy?"
You love blueberries, macaroni and cheese, any kind of pasta dish, French fries, graham crackers, cheese in all forms, guacamole, and sweets. You always want a bite of whatever I'm eating, no matter how spicy, and often ask for seconds. That is all new to me, because at this age I'm pretty sure Mia ate nothing but ketchup. You, however, are a garbage disposal.
You are still so very dramatic. You skinned your knees yesterday, and one would have thought you'd been amputated below the knees the way you were carrying on. I put a bandaid on one knee and you walked around, knees together and bent whining, "My booboo hurts," for nearly an hour. And God help us all if you don't get your way, you will scream until it sounds like you might vomit. And then you will scream some more. There is nothing else to do but let you scream until you are ready for a hug.
But as I said last time, you express joy and rage in equal measures. When you are happy you could light up a whole city.
I keep your hair in a little ponytail on top of your head or it all falls in your face. You hair is light brown, but the top has gotten bleached blond from the sun. Your eyes are dark blue with tiny flecks of green around the pupil.
When Mia was your age, I was trying to get pregnant with you, which is astonishing to me, because I still think you are a baby. I still bury my face in your neck and pinch the chub on your legs and tell myself you're a baby. Maybe it's because in relation to your sister you are still so small. You are a wild, delightful little thing and I try to savor your little-ness as much as impossibly can.
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