I don’t
even know where to begin, sweetie. It hardly seems like it’s only been one
month since my last letter. We’ve had so many fun adventures, you’ve made so
many developmental strides, and there is just so much to tell you.
Let’s
start with the ever evolving bedtime ritual. Once you’ve used the potty, washed
your hands, brushed your teeth (and hopefully done that well enough that you’ve
earned a happy face on your tooth brushing chart), Daddy gets a diaper on you,
and you do a bit of rocking on your own in the rocking chair. Then it’s my
turn. You sit on my lap and we play one “bedtime game” (or interactive book) on
the tablet. Lately, you’re all about Goodnight
Safari, but occasionally you surprise me and pick Sandra Boynton’s Going to Bed Book.
When the
tablet game is done, we read two books. You turn the pages for me, and we
comment on each page. Lately, your attention span has allowed us to explore
longer books, or books with more words on each page. You enjoy Are You My Mother?, and The Cat in the Hat. We have also
rediscovered Happy Halloween, Curious
George! in preparation for the end of October. At some point during the
story process, Daddy comes in and puts lotion on your hands to keep them in
good shape.
Once
stories are done, it’s time to rock and sing. You cuddle a stuffie. (Sometimes
it’s Anchor, the hammerhead shark that Aunt Janine and Uncle Mark brought you
from B.C. this month. Anchor usually needs to spend a few moments biting my
hand before he settles down.) You no longer sit facing me with your head on my
chest or shoulder. You scraped your knee a few weeks ago, so we tried having
you to sit in my lap, facing to the side and resting your ear on my chest. Even
though your knee is better, you have gotten so big that this new position is
better for you. It’s the end of an era, and you are really no longer a baby.
We sing
the Alphabet Song once, together, slowly. And then I continue, solo, with the
Bob the Builder lullaby. (It’s the Bob the Builder theme song, slowed down a
lot.) I ask you if you’re ready for your crib, you nod yes, and then I tell
you, “I’ll sing you there.” I keep singing as I carry you to your crib, lie you
down with your head on your pillow, tuck you in with your blanket and a stuffie
for each arm. Then I tell you I love you, tell you goodnight, and leave you to
fall asleep.
It is
often one of the nicest parts of my day, rocking you in my lap, with your sweet
head on my chest. I kiss your hair and revel in the softness of your hand on my
arm. I try very hard to be really present during this time, although sometimes
my mind wanders to what I have to do next, to dishes that need washing, laundry
that needs sorting, and occasionally dinner that needs eating. But I do my best
to treasure that very special time with you, because some day it will be over.
We’ve had
a wide variety of great outings and adventures this month. We did a one-day
road trip to Chateauguay to attend your Great Uncle Kevin’s celebration of
life. Uncle Kevin was one of the good guys, Bean. He had a fantastic sense of
humour, a strong sense of family, and swore like a sailor. I loved him very
much, and I know your Daddy misses him. We were both so pleased that you got to
meet him before he died. You handled the drive to Chateauguay really well,
especially since it took about three hours due to poor signage and
construction. You were very patient during the speeches, and when it became
clear that you were reaching your limit, you and I disappeared outside for a
while and found a little mound of dirt in which you could dig. I was really
proud of you.
We had
several outings to or around the Agriculture Museum. We picnicked at the
Arboretum, explored the Ornamental Gardens, and had a great time at the Museum
itself. You came home from the museum and played with your horse trailer. You
informed me, most happily, that you were cleaning up horse poop.
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Running down the hill to meet Granny at the Arboretum.
Rapturous hugs soon followed. |
Potty
training has meant fewer museum trips in general, but lots more time at the
park. We went to Mooney’s Bay Park two days in a row to play with K-Bear and
her family. One day, the Magoos (who you looove) joined us and we had a great
time. We have also been going to Pushman Park a lot on weekends. You love the
big boy swing – I can’t seem to push you high enough for your liking, but you
generally accept my limits (and those of physics) with resignation. You also
enjoy digging in the sand, but then, you enjoy digging anywhere you can.
Sometimes we just hang out in the backyard and you dig in “your garden”.
We’ve
also had great adventures around the house. We had a fantastic rainy day play
date with K-Bear and her family. They brought us an enormous cardboard box that
we turned into a little house with windows that open and close. I just
replenished our craft supplies, too, so we’re ready for another rainy few days
this weekend.
You love
doing crafts. You take great pride in our little gallery along the banister,
and you are so proud to tell people that Grandma has one of your paintings on
her fridge. When you see your work on Grandpa Reg’s mini-fridge, you are so
chuffed. It makes me so happy to see the pride you take in your artistic
efforts. And you should be proud! The stuff you bring home is beautiful.
 |
| Your artwork on the wall of the Canadian Museum of Nature! |
Speaking
of Grandma, you say her name! For a long time you insisted on calling her
Grandpa, first because you couldn’t tell the difference between the words, and
then because it drove us all nuts. But once we stopped accepting it (“What do
you mean, where’s Grandpa? Who do you mean? Grandpa Leo? Grandpa Will?”) and
reinforcing that not using someone’s correct name is a sign of disrespect, you
came over from the dark side and have been saying it correctly ever since. I’m
really, really relieved, because oh my goodness, son, that drove me crazy.
 |
| Hanging with Grandma |
You have
some great verbal expressions. You often start a sentence with “that why,” as
in, “That why my truck not rolling,” when what you mean is simply, “My truck
isn’t rolling.” If you see someone you don’t know, you’ll say, “I not remember
that guy.” If we ask you a question and you don’t know (or don’t feel like
saying) the answer, you’ll say, “I not remember that.” You like to point out
that “I not seen that a while” if you come across something that’s been tucked
away. And if you’re talking about something that happened in the past, it
usually happened “long days ago”.
You’re
getting very good at sharing with other kids (although you still aren’t great
with adults, but I’m cracking down), and it’s nice to see at day care that
you’re playing with the other children and not just alongside them. You still
play “alongside” kids you don’t know, like at the park or at a museum.
Your
health has been remarkably good lately (knock on whatever wood on which I can
get my hands). The main problem this past month has been allergies. Seasonal
allergies hit you badly, but not your nose… your skin. You ended up with hives,
an increase in eczema, and itchy eyes. There were some days that we got you
home and you had to be immediately dosed with Benadryl and tossed into the
bath. But the worst seems to be over now.
Because
of the hives, the egg allergy and the nut allergy, we finally filled your Epi
Pen prescription. We’ve seen how bad the hives can get now, and we’re worried
that something could trigger a really bad reaction. We have to get into the
habit of moving it from your day care backpack into the diaper bag for the
weekend, and back again. You also have some appointments coming up: a
dermatology appointment at CHEO next week, and ear surgery on October 26.
The
biggest change is that we’re potty training in earnest. Robin convinced us to
buck up our courage and take you out of diapers. You wear training pants or
underwear now, unless it’s nap time at home or bedtime. You are doing really,
really well. You still have an accident or two a day, but you have started
asking to use the potty and you like doing it. Things started to click when I
let you pee standing up (only on your little potty – the big toilet is still
too big). We are so proud of you, and you seem quite proud of yourself. We’ve
stopped giving gummy bears for every success (as predicted, you started
squeezing out a few drops and demanding a gummy bear), but instead give you two
“general encouragement” gummy bears a day. Things are going better. You still
need help pulling down your underwear, but we’ll get there. We are trying to
practice that when you don’t have to go. When you’re at home, you’re often
naked from the waist down, and that’s been helpful.
Your keychain
collection is growing in leaps and bounds. People from all over the country –
and indeed all over the world – have mailed you key chains to play with. You
keep them in a little Lightning McQueen pouch, and occasionally take them out
to look at them all, or hang them from each other, or just shake them around.
People
who have never met you hear me talk about you or see your smiling face in
photos and want to be a part of your life. You are so loved, and with good
reason. You’re a sweet, affectionate, intelligent, handsome little boy who
brings us joy every day. Keep being so wonderful, keep growing, and keep
soaking up our love. You are still my sunshine, and always will be.
