Dear Ana,
Over the weekend you turned twenty months old. We happened to be on our annual camping trip to Cove Palisades in central Oregon. I was a little apprehensive about how you would react to this camping trip, and therefore had really low expectations. Preparing myself to possibly drive the three hours or so out there, only to turn around and head back home as soon as you realized we would be somewhere….dirty. You see, you are not a fan of dirty. So much in fact that if you happen to be walking around bare foot and get something on you, you promptly lift up your foot and say, “Dirty!” holding out your foot until I come and remove the offending speck. This is also problematic during meal time when your food as the audacity to stick to your fingers. Let’s just say, the baby wipes are never more than an arms length away.
But the most shocking thing happened. You managed to release your inner Pig Pen. Upon noticing the ground here was different than back home, you instantly bent over to run your fingers through the dusty dirt. My immediate reaction was of utter horror, realizing that I did not pack enough baby wipes to last us the entire week. How could I? There weren’t enough in the world to combat this colossal mess. But as soon as I saw your face light up with delight, watching the clouds of dust billow around you, and seeing the swirls your fingers left on the ground, I relaxed. You were actually fine being dirty. In fact, you were acting like a normal child who isn’t consumed with cleanliness and sanitation. I breathed a sigh of relief and knew you were going to love camping.
It wasn’t until much later that the dirt finally offended you. You were playing with your three year old friend Christian (an older man!), and he was showing you how to “wash” his bike with dirt. You would both scoop up handful of dust and rub it all over the handlebars, seat, and wheels. You decided that merely rubbing the dust wasn’t enough, and decided to “wind up” as if throwing the dust before smearing it all over the bike. However each time you did this, half the dust fell out of your clasped hand and coated the right side of your body. It was then that you looked down and realized the dirt was getting on your shoes. The horror! You immediately stopped touching the dirt, ran over to me pointing at your feet, shouting, “Shoes! Dirty! HELP!” So I swooped you up in my arms, pulled off your shoes and simply knocked them together shaking off all the dust. You were instantly calmed and resumed playing with Christian. Wahoo! Mommy manages to save the day once again!
That once again brings us back to your obsession with shoes. I have no idea where you get it from, but it is a strong obsession. One not to be trifled with. You simply love shoes. There have been several times in which I have had to put you down for a nap wearing your shoes because you refuse to take them off. And don’t even get me started on the week where the only shoes you would wear were your polka dot rain boots. Honey, it was the middle of July and 90 degrees outside with zero chance of rain. But I let you wear them because I could see how important it was to you. That and I was really hoping it might, just might, make it rain.
Shoes aren’t your only obsession. Far from it, in fact. Swings would definitely come right after shoes on the list. You are a swing fanatic. It is the first thing you ask for in the morning and the last thing you want at night. Lately it’s getting harder and harder to distract you from the swings because you are starting to reason with me. Several days ago, at 6:45 am, you asked to go on the swing for the first time that day. When I tried to talk you out of it, claiming it was too cold out you raised your eyebrows and offered, “jacket?”
This month we continued with our session of swimming lessons, which has been a little, um, complicated. You LOVE the water, don’t get me wrong, you just don’t love cold water. And the pool we swim at is freezing. But somehow every week you manage to forget how much you hate cold water and actually look forward to the class. One day you saw me gathering up our swimming stuff and you instantly started walking around the house squealing, “Suit! Suit? Suit!” But your tone quickly changes once we get into the water. You tense up your entire body and give me very clear instructions of your wishes: “Steps. Bag. SHOWER.”
Your vocabulary is still a constant source of amazement to your father and I. Both of us like to talk, so I really shouldn’t be that surprised, but I have to admit that you simply blow me away every single day. We have really been working with you on using your words (when we know that you know them) and practicing your manners. And I think it’s pretty obvious:
Me: Ana do you want to pick your snack?
You: Yeah.
Me: Yeah?
You: yes…say please.
More than just the “please” and “thank you” you are absorbing other social expressions as well. I just never get tired of hearing your tiny voice chirp out “b’ess you!” after I sneeze. When I had a bad cold a few weeks ago, I had a mini coughing fit and I heard you shout from down the hall, “Mommy? B’ess you!”
I know you probably get tired of me saying this, and when you are a teenager you will roll your eyes and utter, “Mo-ther” drawing it out into two long syllables to show your embarrassment, but you really are the most wonderful thing in my life. I am not afraid to admit that every time I walk past your room I have to sneak in and just watch you sleep. I’m still waiting for the novelty of you to wear off and I simply do not think that is going to happen any time soon. You are more beautiful that I could have ever dreamed, more intelligent than I could have ever imagined, and kinder than I could have ever hoped. I love you so very much.
All my love,
Mama
