April 06, 2013
Being a parent at this stage means that we’re torn. On the one hand, wishing that you’d stay just the way you are right now in all the little ways and big ways. On the other, waiting excitedly to see what you learn next and what you do next. If we could, we would keep the “lub you” (love you), “night-night”, and kisses each night at bedtime. We can’t wait for morning snuggles when you come into the bed with us to drink your bottle. I look forward to coming home each evening to little hands coming around the garage door and a happy little smile to greet me. We sneak in at night to make sure you’re happy in your crib, to find your little feet sticking out through the bars of the crib as you lie cross-wise. As Dr. Seuss wrote “my feet stick out of bed all night, and when I pull them in, oh dear, my head sticks out of bed up here!”. Those things are going to change over the next weeks and months into something else, and we’ll miss them, but watching you grow is too amazing for us to want you to stay little.
You’ve gone from crawling into your tent to carrying it across the room to us. We might just be raising a fighter pilot, as you can’t walk into the office without “Spin!” when you see the desk chair. When you run into trouble, we hear a little voice saying “stuck” or “help you?”. 6 months of asking if we can help you has resulted in your statement, just like you now hand people things by saying “thank you”, since that’s what we’ve always said in return. We ought to put away a quarter for each bump and bruise you rack up. That way, college will be more than taken care of. Maybe a dollar for each scraped elbow…first one happened running across the driveway this month. I expect that it’s time to start packing bandaids in the diaper bag.
Each weekend we have a chance, we’ll go out chasing the hot air balloons. You started more than a little scared of the noise to start out, but quickly it’s one of your favorite pursuits. Every time we get in the car to drive more than 15 minutes we hear “balloons?” from the back seat, as we must be going to see them. We’ve been in San Diego long enough to forget coats, but we’re quickly informed that “brr, cold, blanket, brr, cold, brr.” when it’s the least bit chilly.
Two weeks with your cousins at the end of the month has convinced you that you’re 18 months going on 6, and you can do pretty much anything you want. So far, it seems to be the case. Your words and your movements keep getting better, every day. You’ve figured out as much as you need to with the iPad so far. Driving up to see Opa and Oma, you got fussy enough that we started Cars 2 on the iPad and handed it back. 5 minutes later you’d exited the movie, paged over two screens of apps, and opened the Paddington Bear book that reads to you. Movie no, book yes. Sounds like a good choice.
In Colorado, you got to fingerpaint and play with Playdough for the first time. As far as 18 month-olds finger painting, a business where everyone gets to do it seems like a much better option than the kitchen table, unless we’re planning on redoing the kitchen. Playdough isn’t bad, though, and all those toys seem to bring out your budding inner engineer, as does taking apart the humidifier.
Your deep curiousity is apparent in all the little things you do. We can’t wait to see where your focus and determination take you next. You make sure that we hit all our cues, especially praying for meals and at bedtime. Each prayer is ended with a joyful “amen!” (or possible cut off in the middle if you feel we’re running long). Daddy’s an engineer, and some of what you do make us think that you might be too. Much more importantly, though, Daddy and Mommy love Jesus, and if you only take away one thing growing up, we hope it’s that. You’re not quite old enough to understand Easter yet, but the One for whom we celebrate understands you better than we ever will. We love you and so does Jesus. You’re a blessing to us and to everyone you meet.