Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Happy 25 month birthday!

Dear Connor,

Today, you turned 25 months old. The date sort of snuck up on me because I am feeling the pains of being sleep deprived. I owe part of this to you, part of this to your sister, and part of this to your nanny who needed to go to the ER last night (she’s fine, thankfully). I think it’s safe to say that this was definitely a “daddy month”, which is a bit different than every other month of your life. In part, it’s because you have suddenly realized that we are two people with two different tolerance levels for various things. I can’t even remember what I told you no about, but as soon as I did, you looked right at me and said “Connor need to go see Daddy”. I told you your efforts at manipulation were fruitless because I was going to tell your daddy I had already said no, but you persisted. He’s clearly the softy in the house.

You seem to be coming to terms with the fact that my large belly leaves very little room for you to sit in my lap. After trying many times to sit squarely on my crossed legs like normal, you’ve finally conceded that there is simply not room, and now just go for my knee right away.

We spent this month marking the final days of summer by enjoying splashing in the neighborhood pool and then loving the cool afternoons that are perfect for outdoor adventures. Today though, was your dad’s early day, and after attempting to cajole you into some outdoor time, you decided that playing with his wallet was the very best activity of all. I came home to find you sitting in the chair pulling money out of your dad’s wallet. When you heard me start to open the door, you quickly started shoving the crumpled bills back into your dad’s wallet asking “is there enough room for all de money in Daddy’s wallet? I think there is not enough room. I think I will put it in Mommy’s backpack”. I was fully supportive of this move. Earlier in the week after asking “Where’s Daddy?” you answered your own question by saying “I think Daddy is at work making some money”. I’m very glad that you have put together that it is Mommy’s job to spend that money, which I presume was the reason for your enthusiastic redistribution of wealth today.

You’ve decided that the particular is superior to the general for just about everything. If I tell you something is in my bag, you quickly say “I think that it is called a backpack” or if I say “Look, Connor, there’s a bird” you respond “I think that it is called a pigeon”. I had to remind you one day that I have graduated from grad school and I do know a thing or two about what things are called, but you weren’t buying it for a minute. You also constantly say “I think” before statements and frequently say “I don’t know” even when you know the answer. You also try and mess with your dad and me by calling objects by a different name, which you think is very funny. You get your pronouns correct about half the time – but almost everything still leaves your mouth in the form of a question. You’re turning into one funny dude. Today, I told you that you were not making sense and you smiled and said “Connor IS making sense!”. You also told your daddy earlier in the day “That’s funny…hahahaha”. Sarcasm, Connor, might be your best coping mechanism in this house.

You learned to jump this month. Both feet legitimately leave the ground in tandem and rarely do you end up on your rear end. You show off this new skill to just about anyone who will watch. You can also use the "big swings" by laying on your tummy, you can climb the ladders at the playground, and you no longer flip to your tummy to go down most slides; you prefer to sit upright, instead.

Two notable events happened this month. First, you got a baseball from a baseball player at a baseball game as we sat 6 rows from the field. That was very cool. Second, the same friend of mine who gave us the fancy dan baseball seats took us to a “backstage visit” with the sloth bear at the zoo that he had won at a silent auction. While there, we got to feed the bear mealy worms through a long tube. You didn’t mind at all when the worms crawled around your fingers. Your dad did most of the feeding with you, but I played along a bit, and I didn't even jump or get squeamish once. This is my attempt to not pass on all my irrational fears to you. While watching the sloth bear, you remembered that this sloth bear looks a lot like the moon bear we saw take a swim while we were in Rhode Island last month. How you remember these things, I do not know.

I successfully filmed you performing the Itsy Bitsy Spider, complete with actions, and reading a book – or rather, chanting the words to a book – but I can’t share these great video clips with blog nation because I haven’t figure out how to get them from the DVD recorder to the computer. Let’s just say – you’re one cute kid. Your grandpa thinks if we both have the book memorized it’s probably time to get a new book. So, he sent you a new book, which is very boring, but again – you adore it. I think you might already have it memorized we’ve read it so many times. Thanks, Dad!

Your grandma, on the other hand, sent us much more useful things. She sent a pink blanket that she made for your sister and new clothes for both of you, but the only thing you considered might be for Baby Helen was the outfit that clearly did not fit you. Oh well, she’ll have her claws in all your stuff in no time. I suppose it’s only fair that you let her know you’re taking everything you want out of all packages before she has at them. My mom was surprised that you didn't realize the pink blanket was for Helen, but I don't think the thought ever crossed your mind.

I cannot report that you have become a good eater, but I can report that you eat clams, shrimp, and mussels. What’s that about? You won’t eat mac and cheese from a box, but you’ll eat things that most adults don’t care for.

Enjoy these last few weeks of being an only child, Connor. Pretty soon Helen will be here and it’s not clear any of us will know what hit us for a few months.


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