Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Happy 33 month birthday, Connor

Dear Connor,

Yesterday, you turned 33 months old. Someday, you will be sitting around in a bar marveling at the number 33 and its significance on the side of a Rolling Rock bottle. Right now, it's just a big number, like all of the other numbers over 4, I suppose.

You impressed me and your dad this month by really trying your hand at logical reasoning. Our County has had the brilliant idea to place speed bumps on pretty much any side streete that is good for cutting between two larger streeets - a so-called "traffic calming measure". However, they are manufactured such that a firetruck can still go down the street without slowing down. Your dad mentioned that we ought to get a car with wheels like a fire truck, and I quickly agreed that this would be a good idea. But you squelched our dreams when you piped up from the backseat and pointed out that our driveway is not large enough for a fire truck. Dream. Crushed. Another day, we were looking at a book with many animals and when we got to the reindeer, you told us that reindeer like the rain.

You regularly tried your hand at being a reporter, and some manifestations of this are quite annoying. I like it when you tell me everything you've done during the day - for example, today the first thing out of your mouth was "I went to the store today and got you a card", which I think was supposed to be a secret. But you also have this penchant for repeating everything that is newsworthy in your mind. A typical conversation might be:
"May I have a piece of cake?"
"Yes, you may have a piece of cake."
"Daddy, Mommy said I could have a piece of cake."


You'll ask why about some random thing that nobody but you is interested in, and then you'll tell whomever else is in the room what the person who answered you said, because apparently you don't realize that everyone else can hear. Or, the information is just so amazing that you want to make certain everyone else has heard.

And this happens all.the.time.

You also have decided to defer almost all questions asked of you. Your dad might ask what you did at gymnastics and you'll turn your head and ask me "What did I do at gymnastics" and no matter how often either of us says we want you to answer, you refuse. I guess you don't want to be wrong, or accidentally reveal something.

After reading green eggs and ham one night, you came up with your own rhyme for me. You were bouncing on the bed and asked me "Would you eat them on a truck? Would you eat them with a buck?". I obligingly told you "no".

You use the word "dude" often and a few times, you have referred to me as "wife". This typically happens when you're with your dad and he has referred to me as such, but it sounds a lot funnier out of your mouth.

You have been quite into teaching Helen how to play with toys. You will very diligently give her an object and then snatch it from her and show her the proper way to use it. She seems to enjoy it, as do you. I think it might be because she now sits up almost all of the time, which probably makes her seem like a real person to you - not just a baby lying around all the time.

You made me laugh a million times - often thinking about the day you brought your dad a handful of poop in the morning. I am still very grateful that he was on the side of the bed you came to and not me.

Helen's sleep completely fell apart this month, so for perhaps the only time in your life, you are not the worst sleeper in the house. Thank you, Connor, for sleeping through most nights. I'm not sure we could make it very long if we were still getting up with both of you.


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