You’re finally to that age where, when someone asks, “How old is he?” the answer is usually, “Almost two,” or, “He’ll be two in September.” Really, “one-and-three-quarters” doesn’t really roll off the tongue, and neither does “twenty-one months” — but that’s how old you are. Not quite two years old yet, no matter how tall or talkative you are.
Mommy hasn’t taken as many pictures of you this month, since whenever the iPhone comes out, you either want to take pictures (that is, turn on the front-facing camera so you can see yourself, then mash the button a dozen times) or play an app, like The Monster at the End of This Book, or Winnie the Pooh, or The Great Cookie Thief, or Curious George at the Zoo, or One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish.
You have managed to take a few cute self-portraits and other pictures, often without Mommy’s help. A Fisher-Price digital camera might be in your future.
While you still have the occasional meltdown, your communication skills have been getting better, so Mommy and Daddy at least know why you’re having a complete meltdown. Usually, it’s something we don’t want you to do, like play with power cords or an iPhone.
You’ve started eating all on your own, although you still ask for help every now and then — if something’s hard to pick up with a fork or spoon, mainly, or if it’s hot and you need us to blow on it for you. You blow on hot food, too, but it doesn’t really help, and is mainly just ridiculously cute.
Fake Aunt Sheryl made you a cushion! Well, Mommy kind of put her up to it, and Mommy bought the fabric and all the stuff for it, but Sheryl sewed it together (which was the hard part). You go through phases of loving it and forgetting about it entirely — come to think of it, though, you do that for just about everything.
Mommy and Daddy threw themselves an anniversary party this month, and you had a blast. Mommy already wrote about that earlier, though, and posted some pictures.
You had a couple of restaurant outings this month: once with your friend Harper and her daddy at Burger Bar 419 (where the service was hopelessly slow, but you hung in there), and once with Naomi and her mommy for dim sum (where you ate like a champ and barely said a word). You still love going out to eat, and you’re usually a Very Good Boy.
We went to the Old West End Festival again this year. Instead of going on Saturday, we walked around on Sunday for an hour. There weren’t as many yard sales as we’d hoped, and you didn’t nap in the stroller like you did last year, even though you were totally overtired and looked like a spaced-out little zombie Connor.
Your obsession with Curious George continues. “George” means “TV,” as far as you’re concerned. We keep five episodes on the DVR at all times, so you can have your George fix when it’s not 11:30am on a weekday.
You love to sing still. You sing your ABC’s and Twinkle Twinkle, mostly, but you sing songs from school and ones Mommy’s convinced you must be making up, too. You also love Sing from Sesame Street, which you call “La La La,” and you love to watch as many versions of it on YouTube as Mommy can find.
You can count to eight, although we’re still not sure you know what counting is.
You’re enunciating better, getting the N on the end of Open, and the F in Fruit bar (although it’s still “foo-bah”)
You still love school. Your babysitter Missy is leaving this week, and Mommy wonders if you’ll be confused about why you’re not seeing her twice a week anymore. Hopefully, you’ll still see her once a month when mommy and daddy go out, though.
Sorry if this month’s note to you seems kind of random and rambling, but Mommy kind of forgot some of the things that happened this month and didn’t take notes like she sometimes does. You’re growing so fast, learning so much, and becoming such a little man — it’s hard to keep up with you sometimes.
Mommy loves your squeal when your neck is tickled, and your bedtime kisses through the crib bars, and the way you say, “unh-unh-UNH!” when someone asks you for a hug. You’re such a sweetie, buddy, and Mommy and Daddy love you so much.