…we are a month away from TWO YEARS OLD!
These are a few of your favorite things:
Being outside. At the park. Our mini back yard. Helping me water the plants. Eating snacks on our little bistro set. Rearranging the dirt in the flower beds. At the beach in the sand.
Ballet shoes. Dance parties in the living room. Music. Singing. Action songs. The Wheels on the Bus. Raffi. “See Emma dance ocean.”
Water. At the beach. Making puddles from your sippy cup. Pouring water in various kitchen toys. Watering the plants. Water in the bath. Washing your hands. Water in the potty. Yes, I just said water in the potty. It’s an issue. We’re working on it.
Getting into things. Trying to be like me. Making messes.
Helping in the kitchen. And by helping I mean sneaking tastes every step of the way and licking the beaters. Making granola (I can’t even pull the oats out without you demanding that we make the stuff). Being lifted up to see what I’m doing. Watching the mixer spin.
All things William. Drumming. Musical instruments. Singing songs. The Beatles. Dancing. Listening to music.
Playing dress up. My wedding shoes. Head bands. Bows. Hair clips. Pig tails. Brushing your hair. Trying on all your clothes. Changing outfits multiple times a day. Changing shoes multiple times a day. Anything with flowers or pink or gold on it is, “so cute,” and must be worn. Jackets (even though we’ve finally got some summer weather in the 90s). Pink cowgirl boots.
Band-aids. Talking about your boo-boos. Pretending with your dollies. Making them do everything you or your Bubba do, including diaper changes, stroller rides, walker time, sitting in the high chair and being pushed in the stroller. Taking your knitted dolly with you everywhere.
Snuggle with Papa. Snuggle with Mama. You come in our room every morning with your blanket, pillow, paci and dolly asking for this. Or, “Mama/Papa hold you.” So cute.
Hugs. Kisses. Sprout.
I feel like it has gone by so fast. That you’ve completely changed and grown overnight into a girl. A real girl. With real thoughts. Real wants and desires. Someone that actually communicates these things to me with words and sentences. I feel like I’m grasping to hold onto it. To the baby fat melting away as you turn into a skinny little kid. To my baby.