Dear Brooklynn, Yesterday, you turned 14 months old. Before we had you, I never realized how much of a difference one month can make in the life a person your size. I used to think that people who said ages in months were a little snobbish, but I now I realize that so much happens between one year and 18 months.
For instance, you seem to think that once you have demonstrated sufficient mastery of a skill, you no longer have any need to perform said skill again. Say for instance kisses and waving bye-bye. A month ago, you would do both, almost on command. And now: nothing. No kisses. No waves.
It almost feels like you dismiss our requests with a miniature eye-roll and a sigh that seems to say, honestly guys, that was so last month. Get with the times, will you? Since when did an under-two-year-old come with the attitude of a teenager?
(And since this file-and-forget behavior dominates almost all of your actions, why do still play in the potted plant dirt? Trust me, you have it down.)
Your inquisitiveness is growing faster than you can explore. If either your mother or I have any sort of item that you catch sight of, you would like to hold it and have it, please. Only, you don’t say please. No, you reach your tiny hand up, pull on our legs, and whimper until you get what you want. Sometimes, if it is very serious, you will squeal and stomp your little feet on the ground to show your displeasure at being denied such a simple request as give me that.
I can’t wait to see what a full blown tantrum looks like.
You know your way around the house very well and you also know when we head upstairs without you. Yesterday, you were in the kitchen and I walked by to go upstairs with a load of clothes from the dryer. I paused halfway up and could hear the tiny stomping of your footsteps coming around the corner on your way to follow me up.
This insistence on being where we are is charming, but you also tend to get underfoot and in the way. You like to help unload the dishwasher regardless if the dishes are clean or dirty, especially the silverware. We do our best to steer you more toward the spoon and rubber spatulas and away from the forks and paring knives.
You also are a more than willing participant in sorting clothes. While I prefer to sort into whites, colors, and darks, you trend more toward in the basket and out of the basket. I know you’re new at doing laundry, but if I’m really honest about it, you’re a little indecisive. You will take one item out, study it, put it on the floor, pick it back up and decide it should really go in the basket after all.
One of your latest favorite pastimes is walking around with your purse on your shoulder. Or, really, anything that you can drape over your shoulder. You walk around with your arm straight up in the air to keep the strap up and march around the house.
In case you haven’t picked up on the trend, you love to pick things up and carry/drag them around with you. And that’s fine. We like it when you play with your toys and even when you play with things that aren’t your toys. But maybe we could work on putting things back in some semblance of order. I know that you aren’t up late at night, but our house is actually getting to be a fairly dangerous place to walk around in the dark.
The days are getting shorter. The sun is down by the time you go to bed and it’s still dark when we roust you in the morning. We try to get you to sleep early, but there is just so much to do with you, like go on walks and bike rides and explore the yard. The mornings when we are working come far to soon for all our liking; just last week, I could have sworn you mumbled, Five more minutes, as I came into your room to get you dressed.
Speaking of speaking, you are doing very little of that. You still have no real words that you use in any sort of context. And that’s fine. You talk a lot, and when I say talking, I mean use many different sounds and inflections and cadences. You talk to us, you talk to your toys, and you talk to yourself. You are very earnest in your efforts to communicate. I often wonder if we still sound as strange to you as you do to us most of the time. Perhaps you already have your own language all developed and you’re just waiting for us to catch on so we can hold a decent conversation.
I know this is a recurring theme, but you are growing up so fast. Your hair is long enough to put into pigtails. You like to feed yourself with your spoon and you don’t need us to cut up all of your food anymore. (You could probably do with more chewing and less swallowing whole.)
We brush your teeth every night after that bath and this is now one of your favorite parts of the bedtime routine. You help put your clothes on in the morning and take them off at night. Sometimes, it feels like at the rate you’re growing, we’ll be handing you the keys to the car by Christmas.
Just remember Brooklynn, no matter how big and mature you get, you’ll still be our little girl. (And give your mom a kiss once a while. She’d really like that.)