Dear Z,
You turn two tomorrow. You're not a baby. Well, you'll always be
my baby, but you're barely a toddler anymore! You're a little girl. A running, dancing, galloping, hopping little girl who can speak in full sentences, sing a dozen nursery rhymes and count past 10. You can say your ABC's, drink out of a big girl cup and help take your clothes off. You can build a Lego tower 15 pieces high and help assemble a wooden train track. You're mastering more each day, "reading" me stories from your favorite library books and putting together puzzles. You can help in the kitchen and you love to play pretend, taking me on adventures "to the grocery store" and "to the library."
When you want something, you have an engaging way of asking for it. You cock your head to the right, raise your voice an octave and say, with rising intonation, "You wanna go to the park with me?" "You wanna a drink of my apple juice?" or "You want me brush your hair, make it pretty?" When you want other children to bend to your will, you'll occasionally treat them to the cocked-head question, more more likely you'll turn to the closest adult and say something like, "Leo wants water, Mommy. He wants me feed him water from his cup."
You still don't have lovey, instead giving affection to a rotating cast of dolls and stuffed animals. You play with all of your toys, but your vintage Little People house, Aquadoodle, markers and Play-Doh dominated this year.
Your Daddy's daughter, you absolutely love music, and you can identify "rock 'n roll," "pop," "lullaby," and "reggae" accurately. Today we took you to see Justin Roberts and the Not Ready for Naptime Players at a concert at FitzGerald's, and you've refused to listen to your nursery rhymes CD before today's nap or bedtime, instead demanding "Justin Roberts," which we don't yet own. I'll download some songs from iTunes tonight, I promise.
You're a social butterfly. You remember names better than either of your parents and you ask after your friends frequently. You like it when we tell you a story about one of your friends before bed.
Speaking of which...you're a decent sleeper, going to bed between 7:35 and 8pm and rising between 6 and 6:30am. You've only missed two or three afternoon naps this whole year. Usually you're down for two hours in the early afternoon.
Since you turned one, you quit eating fresh fruit. You'll only stand for dried fruit or applesauce. Bananas are the only exception to the rule. You like vegetables, particularly corn and french fries. For breakfast, you'll have milk, diluted OJ and frozen waffles or most any breakfast cereal, but Cracklin' Oat Bran and Weetabix are your favorites. You love spaghetti, mac and cheese, quesadillas, hot dogs, chicken, ketchup and lasagna. For snacks, you like yellow cheddar cheese, peanut butter off a spoon, cereal bars, animal crackers, dehydrated strawberries and dry cereal. Juice boxes have not ceased to thrill you with their unadulterated sweetness. And you'll never forget a business that hands you a lollipop.
You're not toilet trained, not even a little bit, but you can tell us what you're doing and when. And watching Mommy use the toilet, heck, that's even better than "Caillou!"
Z, you're the cat's pajamas. The cherry on my sundae. The reason I go to work every weekday and wake up early every weekend morning.
