Housekeeping at 31/32 Months
Dear Chicken,
Once again I'm late with your update, and I missed last month's entirely. Let's blame it on the move. It's certainly not that you haven't done anything noteworthy these last two months.
We weren't sure how you were going to react that watching all of your worldly possessions packed up into boxes and driven out of the city, but you barely batted an eye. Instead you walked around the new house saying things like, "I have this lamp at home!" You were shocked how many things in the new house had also existed in the old house.
This month we all learned the value of bribery. After we played Guitar Hero at the Jersey Shore a month ago you asked us to buy you an electric guitar. We explained to you that an electric guitar is a Big Boy toy, and that you would need to do Big Boy things to get Big Boy toys. Examples of Big Boy things were cited such as peeing in the potty and sleeping in your Big Boy bed. We went home and you said you wanted to sleep in your Big Boy bed, so we made a deal. Sleep in the Big Boy bed for a month and you could have an electric guitar. Amazingly, this worked. You started sleeping in your bed instead of the Pack and Play, and you didn't look back.
When we got to Cold Spring we rewarded you with a brand new toy electric guitar. For a few minutes you stared at it saying, "This is a great present!" Then you looked at me and said, "What do you have to do to get a red caboose?"
"You have to use the potty," I said. "All the time."
This has not worked as well. I guess you don't want the red caboose that badly.
You are also really into semantics all of a sudden. Sometimes you'll start yelling in the car, and Dad and I will turn around and say, "NO YELLING IN THE CAR."
"That's not yelling," you'll say. "That's screaming."
Yesterday you chased a butterfly across the backyard and called it a moth.
"It's a butterfly," Dad corrected.
"No, it's not a butterfly, it's a moth," you insisted for several minutes until finally being persuaded that maybe it was possible you were wrong.
But you also continue to be incredibly empathetic. I sprained my toe about a month ago and for weeks afterward you would ask me, "Does your toe still hurt?" as though you were truly concerned for my well-being.
And then there was the nap incident. To frame this properly I must explain that whenever you don't take your nap, Dad or I will walk into your room, hands on hips, and sigh, "No nap, huh?". So the other day, when your grandmother admitted to you that she was tired because she hadn't gotten a chance to take a nap that day, you looked at her, sighed and said, "No nap, huh?", as though you understood completely what it was like to be napless, as though you felt her pain.
You're a sweetie.
Love,
Mama
Once again I'm late with your update, and I missed last month's entirely. Let's blame it on the move. It's certainly not that you haven't done anything noteworthy these last two months.
We weren't sure how you were going to react that watching all of your worldly possessions packed up into boxes and driven out of the city, but you barely batted an eye. Instead you walked around the new house saying things like, "I have this lamp at home!" You were shocked how many things in the new house had also existed in the old house.
This month we all learned the value of bribery. After we played Guitar Hero at the Jersey Shore a month ago you asked us to buy you an electric guitar. We explained to you that an electric guitar is a Big Boy toy, and that you would need to do Big Boy things to get Big Boy toys. Examples of Big Boy things were cited such as peeing in the potty and sleeping in your Big Boy bed. We went home and you said you wanted to sleep in your Big Boy bed, so we made a deal. Sleep in the Big Boy bed for a month and you could have an electric guitar. Amazingly, this worked. You started sleeping in your bed instead of the Pack and Play, and you didn't look back.
When we got to Cold Spring we rewarded you with a brand new toy electric guitar. For a few minutes you stared at it saying, "This is a great present!" Then you looked at me and said, "What do you have to do to get a red caboose?"
"You have to use the potty," I said. "All the time."
This has not worked as well. I guess you don't want the red caboose that badly.
You are also really into semantics all of a sudden. Sometimes you'll start yelling in the car, and Dad and I will turn around and say, "NO YELLING IN THE CAR."
"That's not yelling," you'll say. "That's screaming."
Yesterday you chased a butterfly across the backyard and called it a moth.
"It's a butterfly," Dad corrected.
"No, it's not a butterfly, it's a moth," you insisted for several minutes until finally being persuaded that maybe it was possible you were wrong.
But you also continue to be incredibly empathetic. I sprained my toe about a month ago and for weeks afterward you would ask me, "Does your toe still hurt?" as though you were truly concerned for my well-being.
And then there was the nap incident. To frame this properly I must explain that whenever you don't take your nap, Dad or I will walk into your room, hands on hips, and sigh, "No nap, huh?". So the other day, when your grandmother admitted to you that she was tired because she hadn't gotten a chance to take a nap that day, you looked at her, sighed and said, "No nap, huh?", as though you understood completely what it was like to be napless, as though you felt her pain.
You're a sweetie.
Love,
Mama
Labels: Housekeeping
posted by Hana @ 10:51 AM
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