Housekeeping at 26 Months
So here is the post I meant to include with this picture had I not been horribly ill from a sinus infection:
Truthfully I don't even know where to begin with this monthly update because every day you do something new and frequently hilarious. You've become very interested in pretending over the past few months, but it's really come to a head in recent weeks. For a while you just liked to pretend that an old Fresh Direct box was a train. Somehow that led to you pretending to be Jagoda, our cleaning lady. You would gather up all your mops and brooms and your feather duster and your vacuum cleaner and put them in a little tote bag and walk out the door of the playroom saying, "I'm Jagoda." To which I would usually reply "Okay, bye Jagoda," which always sends you into paroxysms of laughter.
Then you added Debbie to your list of people you like to pretend to be. Debbie is your music teacher, and in your pretend scenarios Debbie is always taking phone calls during music class. I've met Debbie and I find this incredibly hard to believe, but there you have it. You like to go through the whole music class, telling everyone it's guitar time, then singing "Time to put the drums away" while you put your drum away, and leading your assorted dolls and action figures in a round of "What's your name?" Somewhere in the middle of this Debbie's phone rings multiple times and Debbie stops music class to take a call.
And then sometimes you're Mama. You haven't quite figured out what to do as Mama other than to walk around and say "I'm Mama." Sometimes being Mama involves pretending to do the crossword or flipping through a catalog or reading a book. Sometimes being Mama involves lying down on the couch and saying "I'm exhausted." Sometimes it just involves sneezing.
But most importantly, this is the month when your father and I have finally come to terms with the fact that you are far more social than either one of us and that that's just how it's going to be. You like to talk to people and make friends. It's so weird. Maybe some day when you're older you can explain the appeal to us. A few weeks ago in the airport we saw some kids your age playing together. I saw you checking them out, so I suggested you take your toy airplane over to them and see if they wanted to share. I expected you to ignore my suggestion, or possibly look at me like I was out of my mind. What I did not expect you to do was to say "Okay" and walk over to the kids. Not only is this something I wouldn't have done under threat of torture at your age, it's not something I'm capable of doing NOW. Note I suggested YOU go over to the kids. I did not suggest MAMA go over to the kids. Then once we were on the airplane you made friends with the kid in the seat in front of you. You do this ALL THE TIME and truthfully it freaks me out a little but also I am in awe of your skills. You walk over and talk to adults in restaurants, people sitting next to us on the train, doctors, nurses, anyone who comes within range of your very loud speaking voice.
And what do you say, you might wonder? Let's see. You say things like "This kitchen is a mess," even if it's not. You like to tell people how things work even if you have no idea. "First you take this and then you take that and then you go like that." You repeat snippets of conversation: "It's just, I don't know, um, it's just," you said about 27 times in a row after listening to me on the phone. You express many, many, many wants. "Want to go beep beep boop boop at the bank. Want to sign checks. I need money. Want to buy this." And the other night on the phone you said, "I'll talk to you later Mama," and handed the phone to Dad.
And of course you still say "no" a lot. The parenting books say you're supposed to give two-year-olds choices, I guess to disguise the fact that they live in worlds where they have no choices at all. But you're too smart for that. "What shirt do you want to wear?" I'll say in the morning. "The green shirt or the blue shirt?" "No shirt," you always reply. "No clothes no no no." "Do you want fish sticks or a turkey burger for dinner," I'll ask. "No dinner," you say. Or sometimes: "Want tortellini." The parenting books don't say what to do about that.
Love,
Mama
Truthfully I don't even know where to begin with this monthly update because every day you do something new and frequently hilarious. You've become very interested in pretending over the past few months, but it's really come to a head in recent weeks. For a while you just liked to pretend that an old Fresh Direct box was a train. Somehow that led to you pretending to be Jagoda, our cleaning lady. You would gather up all your mops and brooms and your feather duster and your vacuum cleaner and put them in a little tote bag and walk out the door of the playroom saying, "I'm Jagoda." To which I would usually reply "Okay, bye Jagoda," which always sends you into paroxysms of laughter.
Then you added Debbie to your list of people you like to pretend to be. Debbie is your music teacher, and in your pretend scenarios Debbie is always taking phone calls during music class. I've met Debbie and I find this incredibly hard to believe, but there you have it. You like to go through the whole music class, telling everyone it's guitar time, then singing "Time to put the drums away" while you put your drum away, and leading your assorted dolls and action figures in a round of "What's your name?" Somewhere in the middle of this Debbie's phone rings multiple times and Debbie stops music class to take a call.
And then sometimes you're Mama. You haven't quite figured out what to do as Mama other than to walk around and say "I'm Mama." Sometimes being Mama involves pretending to do the crossword or flipping through a catalog or reading a book. Sometimes being Mama involves lying down on the couch and saying "I'm exhausted." Sometimes it just involves sneezing.
But most importantly, this is the month when your father and I have finally come to terms with the fact that you are far more social than either one of us and that that's just how it's going to be. You like to talk to people and make friends. It's so weird. Maybe some day when you're older you can explain the appeal to us. A few weeks ago in the airport we saw some kids your age playing together. I saw you checking them out, so I suggested you take your toy airplane over to them and see if they wanted to share. I expected you to ignore my suggestion, or possibly look at me like I was out of my mind. What I did not expect you to do was to say "Okay" and walk over to the kids. Not only is this something I wouldn't have done under threat of torture at your age, it's not something I'm capable of doing NOW. Note I suggested YOU go over to the kids. I did not suggest MAMA go over to the kids. Then once we were on the airplane you made friends with the kid in the seat in front of you. You do this ALL THE TIME and truthfully it freaks me out a little but also I am in awe of your skills. You walk over and talk to adults in restaurants, people sitting next to us on the train, doctors, nurses, anyone who comes within range of your very loud speaking voice.
And what do you say, you might wonder? Let's see. You say things like "This kitchen is a mess," even if it's not. You like to tell people how things work even if you have no idea. "First you take this and then you take that and then you go like that." You repeat snippets of conversation: "It's just, I don't know, um, it's just," you said about 27 times in a row after listening to me on the phone. You express many, many, many wants. "Want to go beep beep boop boop at the bank. Want to sign checks. I need money. Want to buy this." And the other night on the phone you said, "I'll talk to you later Mama," and handed the phone to Dad.
And of course you still say "no" a lot. The parenting books say you're supposed to give two-year-olds choices, I guess to disguise the fact that they live in worlds where they have no choices at all. But you're too smart for that. "What shirt do you want to wear?" I'll say in the morning. "The green shirt or the blue shirt?" "No shirt," you always reply. "No clothes no no no." "Do you want fish sticks or a turkey burger for dinner," I'll ask. "No dinner," you say. Or sometimes: "Want tortellini." The parenting books don't say what to do about that.
Love,
Mama
Labels: Housekeeping
posted by Hana @ 11:31 AM
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