Two days ago, you turned 28 months old. I celebrated by going to see the movie version of Sweeney Todd, sticking your dad with bedtime with you and Helen together for the first time and you celebrated by sleeping in your room...alone...for the whole night - and I assure you, the whole house is happy about that this morning.
We spend all of our days together, Connor, and that can be both a lovely and very difficult thing. At times, I am very jealous that your dad is back at work because he can talk to adults any time during the day he likes. I, on the other hand, must answer the question "why?" about 3,000 times each day. And then, as if that's not annoying enough, at least a third of the time you correct my answer, and all I can think is that if you knew the answer in the first place, why did you bother involving me? Oh right, because you're two. Your grandma says that at your age, kids don't intentionally do things to drive people insane, but I beg to differ. In a few days, we'll be visiting her for over a week, and we'll see if her tune changes then. You spent an entire week this month trying to figure out the most efficient way to make me go nuts. The answer? Walk into your sister's room during one of her many naps and wake her. You did this exactly twice. You nearly lost your life exactly twice. See the connection?
Seriously, Connor, it's still fun to hang out with you day to day because I am constantly reminded of all the wonder in this world we inhabit. One day this month, we took a walk in the stroller. We had intended to go to the park, but you decided we would take a detour and on that detour, we ran into a holly tree. This tree was so big that we were able to climb under it and hide, looking for 'tinky 'kunks that might be there. And then...do you know what this tree offered us? It had berries. Red berries. Lots of red berries. Can we count all the red berries? Why are some berries red and some berries green? We agreed to visit again in a few weeks to see if the green berries were in the minority then as the red ones become more abundant during the passage of the season. Later on that walk, we found a small forest - just like Harold's 'mall forest and we sat and had a picnic. Only we had green beans and yogurt because I did not bother to bring 9 kinds of pie for us to enjoy.
The babies continue to follow us everywhere - and thankfully, they are adept at using public transportation. One night, we went to Target. The next day, you wanted to go back so you told me we had forgotten to bring your babies home. Luckily, I had enough sleep that night to not just get in the car and drive to Target. Instead, I told you they had to take the bus home. And, lo and behold, they made it. Phew! I'm hoping you get tired of the babies soon, though I do adore it when you nurse them. And, I appreciate that you had to pump milk for them last week because you told me you might go back to work soon and they'll need to start drinking from a bottle.
For tricks this month, you continue to memorize books - and I mean memorize - from cover to cover. Our friend Ellen was totally freaked out when you got tired of waiting for me to read a book so you sat down and "read" it yourself. She thinks you're a genius. I think it's the product of your OCD that requires that any time a new book enters the house it is read to you no less than 100 times, giving you ample opportunity to memorize it. Your daddy mentioned that he read that parents sometimes discover things about themselves when their child is diagnosed with something but I assured him, I know that I too suffer from undiagnosed OCD. What else could explain the way I nearly murdered your father when he put a banana directly on the dining room table rather than on the tray that is there for them. Did you notice too, Connor? On.The.Table. You also went to a restaurant with a friend of ours and that friend spent much of the meal saying to her daughter "Can you X like Connor?". We all know how rare this is - in fact, it's so rare that when you sat still and ate snack at our parent-child class BOTH teachers made a point of coming up to me and telling me what a wonderful time you had at snack. I didn't sell you out at the restaurant. I pretended like every meal we have with you is pleasant and that you just sit right down and gobble it up, making pleasant conversation. Yesterday, you performed a solo somersault at gymnastics, though I do wish I had been there to witness it rather than your dad.
You continue to be a bit of an inventor. We were decorating the Christmas tree when you noticed a bib your sister received as a present lying on the floor. Never one to allow her to have things intended for her, you put it on. I asked you why you were wearing Helen's bib and you started thinking quick. You reached down and filled the little pouch intended to catch food with ornaments and told me you needed it to decorate the tree. Duh, Mommy!
Being at home has allowed me to indoctrinate you more and more, and it shows up in your speech patterns. I have heard you tell daddy "Thank you for pushing the 'ilverware drawer in so I couldn't get into it." and "Thank you for the lovely meal." and sometimes, when Helen is awake, you walk up to her and say "Well hello, bright eyes." I spend some time each day thinking of phrases I could start using just so I could hear you repeat them. I assure you, I am very thankful for the fact that you have yet to repeat a not so nice word you hear from me - though you do recognize that words like this exist. We were on the porch one day, and for no apparent reason, your dad decided to release the thing on the front door that holds it open so it could ram into my knee as I sat there innocently putting your shoe on. I was so shocked, that I should "god damnit!" and you looked right up at your dad and said "What did Mommy just say?". But heck, if your dad ever assaults you with a door, I totally accept whatever phrase you want to shout at him.
You like to take baths with your sister, report on whether she is happy or not in the car, and let me know that "HELEN IS WAKING UP!" at which point I always think - she is now, anyway. You still like to snuggle and jump on the bed and run, run, run. Always running, my friend. Perhaps that is why I'm able to ditch those maternity clothes so quickly.
You're such a charmer, Connor. I do adore you.