Happy Month 43, Connor!

Dear Connor,

A few days ago your turned 43 months. You have spent most of the past month growing, I think. Or at least that is the only explanation your dad and I can come up with for the fact that you now go to the dinner table and eat, and eat, and eat - and then wolf a bowl of baby oatmeal down before bed, along with your starburst or other treat that you have at the end of the day. And then you sleep late the next day (we actually had to wake you up to leave the house at 8:15 twice last week!). When you come downstairs in the morning, the first words out of your mouth are often "Daddy, I'm hungry". And I love rolling over and saying "Daddy will get right on that, Connor". As long as we're on the eating / sleeping front, I should mention that you added two foods to your diet this month - parmesan cheese (aka your "favorite cheese") and shredded mozarella cheese. I have no idea how this happened, but I'm going to try and work up to an actual cheese square in the next couple of months. Of course, if you start eating cheese for a snack, I will have to stop staying that neither you nor Helen eat any kid's foods - except pizza and french fries. You are still firmly opposed to macaroni and cheese, peanut butter and jelly, fish stick, chicken nuggets (the soy kind), grilled cheese, and pretty much anything else that kids normally eat.

You spent much of the month moving dirt from one pot to another in the greenhouse, and eventually planting and watering seeds. So far, only the broccoli has dared show its little green leaves, but I have hope that other plants will follow soon.

You performed your first solo puppet play, which was a mix of the Very Hungry Caterpillar and a story relating to a giant dog. It starred your (stuffed) puppy "Pugsley", who sleeps with you every night. The heroic protagonist of the play eats, and eats, and eats until he grows to be as tall as the highest point in the ceiling in our kitchen - which is (for those who don't know) a cathedral ceiling that is much higher than a normal ceiling. I await the puppy's next adventure. You started the show by setting up your props and then covering them with a white blanket - much like Mrs. Moss and Mrs. Trembour do when they perform a puppet play at school. You then sang a little tune to set the mood, asked me to find my seat, and then dramatically took the blanket off and began the show. It was incredible.

I think you have finally decided on Pugsley as your favorite stuffed animal, though you don't have so much loyalty to him that I worry about losing him and you being too upset. This is the stuffed animal your grandma Lynn gave you Christmas, 2007. You ask for it each night before bed, though yesterday morning, you offered that maybe Helen could sleep with Pugsley for just one night. As nice as the gesture is, I think we will wait a while for such a dramatic thing to happen. Many nights I check-in on you, I find you clutching Pugsley in some sort of vicelike grip, and I do not want to risk you waking up and wondering where Pugsley is, and then embarking on a midnight stroll to find him. And possibly remembering it is in your sister's crib and ultimately waking her up by snatching it out. That would be bad for the whole house.

You and Helen continue to play together. Most of your play involves the kitchen, dirt, or trains. Here, Helen is cooking you up for dinner. She chose not to eat you, though she did try and bite you this morning and you were cool as a cucumber. You ratted her out but did not fight back and words cannot express how grateful I am for that. She also tried to shove you out of the wagon a couple of days ago and other than telling her it was your wagon too, you were remarkably restrained. Your dad and I have begun to discuss what we will do when you finally pop her one and she deserves it. We are considering pretending it didn't happen, though we aren't yet decided.

You remain an excellent sous chef. You show particular skill with the use of sprinkles. We have about 10 containers of these things and according to you, it is essential that we use some from every one of them, every time we get them out. And after carefully putting some in each of many bowls, you go about mixing them all together, and then finally dumping them in large quantities on the cookies or cake we are decorating. Frankly, I prefer my cookies with a few less sprinkles, but I'm happy to have the help in the kitchen.

I believe I can accurately report that you scored a serious victory at school. When you started in the 3-day class, Mrs. Moss told me about snack. On Mondays you have whole wheat rolls with butter and apples (same as we had in parent-child class so many days), on Tuesday they serve real oatmeal with maple syrup and apples, and on Wednesday you have brown rice and apples. When Mrs. Moss told me this, I told her that you would not eat real oatmeal (you only like the baby stuff), and it was a battle I had long ago decided I wasn't waging. She looked very surprised, but said that at least you could have apples. I told her that possibly your love of syrup would drive you to eventually break down and eat oatmeal, but the possibility was remote, at best. At the last parent night, Mrs. Moss announced that on Tuesdays starting in April, the class would be switching to a muffin for snack on Tuesday. She did not say what precipitated this menu change, but I'm pretty sure your steadfast refusal to touch the oatmeal had something to do with it. To be fair, you told me that you tried one bite of oatmeal on one day, so it's not like you were unreasonable and never tried it - which is your usual reaction when you decide you do not like a food.

Connor 1, Mrs. Moss and her oatmeal 0.

You occasionally have nightmares, and while developmentally appropriate, I find it rather annoying. Last night, you were vexed by the little black armadillos that were shouting in your room and dear DOG, I was so glad when i finally convinced you to just dream about a train trip with me to Alaska. At first I suggested you dream about fishing in Alaska, but you said "Oh No, I'm going to dream about a train. That special train that is in Alaska that you can sleep on". Which reminds me, you are obsessed with the idea of going to Alaska. I told you we were going on a practice vacation to Minnesota this summer and if everyone slept every night, we would consider branching out more next year. I do look forward to seeing the world with you and your sister, Connor.

Love,
Mommy