You turned two years old last week, though I have to tell you that I’m not entirely sure how that’s possible. I mean one minute you’re in my arms, this sweet, helpless little baby with a squishy face and saggy skin who does nothing but eat, sleep and poop (my goodness did you poop!) and then suddenly you’re this little person who talks and uses the potty and has an opinion about EVERYTHING.
Can we talk about that, Morgan? This need you have to speak your mind about everything? Can I expect that to stop anytime soon, or should I stop trying to wait this phase out and just get used to it? There are things must be done a certain way and if they’re not done in a way that you deem satisfactory, all hell breaks loose. For example, when we’re driving and I happen to be sitting in front of you, the seat must be reclined far enough back that you can touch it with your toes. As soon as we get into a vehicle you assess the back-of-the-seat situation and if things aren’t to your liking, you immediately start screaming “That! That!” or “Do it! Do it!” As if I know exactly what that is and what needs to be done with it. (Though this scenario has played out enough now that I actually do know what you want and I quickly oblige, so I guess you win this one.)
These Terrible Two’ss are rough, kiddo. I was in tears twice this week due to sheer frustration with you. Life would be SO MUCH easier if you could just understand a few things:
1) It isn’t always your turn. I love that you are beginning to grasp the concept of taking turns, but in order for it to really work you have to let other people take their turn, too. 2) When I say something, I really mean what I say. For instance, when I ask you to stop doing something, put something away, please sit down, etc, I actually want you to do what I’ve asked. I’m not trying to use some kind of reverse psychology tactic on you. I’m really pretty simple that way. On that same note, when you ask for another cookie and I tell you they’re all gone, I mean that they’re all gone. As in – there are no more; they have ceased to exist. Believe it or not, I don’t magically produce cookies and repeating your demands over and over, louder and louder each time, does not make the Mystical Cookie Fairy appear on her winged pony.
3) Sometimes it’s just easier for me to do something rather than wait for you to do it. As much as it upsets you when I do it myself, I promise that there will plenty of other opportunities for you to sweep the kitchen floor.
Your confidence grows each day and you like to assert your independence at any given opportunity — dressing yourself, emptying the contents of your potty chair into the toilet after you’ve gone to the bathroom, climbing in and out of your crib unassisted, opening your own string cheese or yogurt, choosing which items on your plate you want to eat and which ones you’d rather give to Dixie. It seems like each day there is something new you want to try and, while this can sometimes be a great source of frustration for me, it makes me proud to say that more often than not, you succeed at those new things.
Your vocabulary gets bigger every day and you’ve become quite the little parrot. You like to repeat the things you hear, which is funny until you repeat a naughty word you’ve overheard your daddy say. (If I were being totally honest I would tell you that it’s actually hilarious when you repeat swear words. But since it would be a perfect example of bad parenting, I won’t admit that I sometimes ask you to repeat them just to make me giggle.) You’ve taken to calling your dad “Honey” or “Babe” and you frequently argue with him, insisting that I’m your wife. One of my favorite things to hear you say is, “Wee har you, honey?” or “Wee go, Mama?” when you’re wandering through the house looking for your dad or I.
Morgan, I’ve always been under the impression that living with a two year old is basically a string of horrible experiences juxtaposed with a few moments of laughter. I’m not very far into this journey, but I think my opinion of two year olds is changing. If this year turns out to be anything like the last two, I think it’s safe to assume that there will be those moments of horror, but there will also be plenty of laughter and more than a few moments of absolute wonder. Though I recognize the many ways you’ve grown and constantly find myself amazed at what a little girl you’re becoming, there are times that I look at you, especially when you’re sleeping, and see my little newborn again. You still have her same round nose and soft skin. You breathe the same sigh of contentment she did when she snuggled into my chest. You have her chubby toes and wide fists. The top of your head still smells the same.
And you’re still the very essence of my heart, mind, and soul.
Happy (late) birthday!