Right now you are sleeping in your own room! Your dad has decided that he's sick of using earplugs every night so that he isn't awakened by a screeching pterodactyl every few hours (molars - I'd scream, too, kid! And I did from what your Grandma Patty tells me) and I have to say I'm proud of him for lasting this long. He loves to wake up to you and snuggle, but he gets up early and goes to work so he needs a good night's sleep. So, tonight I put you to bed in the queen sized Tempurpedic bed in your room (I know...I'm ruining you for sleepovers. what an obnoxious kid you could be, "oh..I'd love to come to your birthday sleepover, but I am used to a Tempurpedic and just can't sleep on anything else...") and we will sleep there together. Your brother Jack doesn't like to sleep alone and he's counting down the days til you can sleep with him. Closer all the time, Jack! Still, you're my baby and sleeping in your own bed means you're growing up. Wah.
You have decided that you don't poop anywhere but in the tub these days. You love the tub...you would stay in there for hours if you could. Why not poop in there, too? You absolutely never want to get out. Jack and Josie think it is hilarious that you shake your head 'no' with MUCH gusto when they ask you if you want to get out. They think it's SO funny, in fact, they ask you if you want to get out of the tub ALL THE TIME. LIKE WHEN WE'RE IN THE CAR. And you look at them like, "Are you guys serious? You think I don't know I'm not in the tub right now?" Atta girl.
We got you a learning tower for Christmas and you absolutely love it. You can stand right next to me and "help" (read: throw everything within your reach on the floor) me cook or use your little laptop right next to mine. It's awesome. You haven't figured out how to climb up into it yet, but I'm sure it'll be a matter of days. Just like your bike - one minute you couldn't ride it, the next you could.
We started a music class called Kindermusik: Village last week. You, of course, think it is the best thing ever. By extension I do, too. I have to say, though, that I cringed a little when they said "the high pitched notes are the ones preferred by little ones so use them a lot." Hmmm. High notes. Me and high notes are not friends. They should have told me that singing high notes would be a requirement. Still, as a total fool in love with you, I will sing my horrible high notes to you all day long and in front of 9 other mom/baby couples at class because you love it. The end.
In the immortal words of pre-lameass Stevie Wonder, you are the sunshine of my life, you are the apple of my eye. It's just that simple.
I love you, bean. Every day I love you more.
Love,
Momma
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