A Painted House

Archive for July 2012

Dear Edison,

Welcome to 20 months old, sweet boy!  This is the month where you realized that everything in this world has a name and that somehow, all that noise we make with our mouths actually means something.  (Experience tells me that this understanding will somehow lift around the age of four, when the words coming out of my mouth seemingly turn into an unintelligible mess not worth even acknowledging.  Sigh.).  You’ve begun labeling everything in site and looking to me for confirmation that yes, that is a truck, an apple, your shoes, the potty, and you are correct, that is your winky.

I love this moment of comprehension that we speak the same language because suddenly the whining quotient in our house drops dramatically and instead I get requests for the things  you’d like.  My ears thank you.  You’d like a snack (“snaaaa”)?  Sure thing.  You need help (“nee hep”)?  Absolutely, at your service.  You want to watch a show on the TV (Tee Dee?)  Oh, all right.  SO much better.   The only one I’ll miss was your old way of subtly requesting a drink by going up to the fridge, bracing your feet on the floor, and pulling with all your miniature, undersized might on the handles, head thrown back in effort, and all the while hollering “ABEE!”  (Translation: “OPEN!”).   I still prefer that method to the new, “Dreee pease?”

Oh yeah, Edison you’re polite!  Is there anything cuter than a toddler who uses manners?  I think not.  Not even baby kittens.  You know that when you really, really want something you can come look me square in the face, tack the word “pease” on the end of the sentence while simultaneously rubbing your hand across your belly in the sign language motion, and the world is yours.   And then you hit us with the double-whammy; when we hand you your desired object and prompt you to say ‘Say thank you”, you happily respond, “You Gelcum.”   Your Dad is a particular sucker for that move and you know it.  Heaven help us if you decide to politely ask for a puppy.   We’ll put him out back next to your pony.

Since this letter is going to be completely filled with your new words, much like my every day, let’s talk about how you can count.  To be honest I have no idea how long you’ve been able to count.  In the whirlwind of our summer days spent out in the sun, at the zoo, and working in the garden, I never thought to ask you if you knew what comes after one.  (This is the part where you make me feel guilty for your second-child status and I make the appropriately understanding faces but still deny you the peanut butter jar and a spoon.)  But last week I found myself counting something off for James and when I started in with “One” I heard a little voice beside me chime in with, “Twooooo”.  So I repeated “Two,” and you came back with, “Fweeeee”.  At this point I was pretty much riveted to your eager little face; the house could have started on fire and I wouldn’t have noticed, so preoccupied was I with the sheer force of the adorableness radiating from your 20-pound frame.  A  little more investigation revealed that according to you the numbers line up as, “Oooone, twoooo, fweeee, fooooe, fiiiiiigh, siiiiii, teeen, teeeeeen, TEN!”  I’m a puddle.

There could be no other way to finish this letter, Edison, than to tell you how much you love goodbyes.  You’re so good at them, making sure that at any parting nothing feels left out.  When I get you out of bed in the morning you laboriously and earnestly wish a Goodbye to your blankie, Elmo, paci, bed, fan, light, and all the animals in your wall décor.  Similarly, you go through your day bestowing an eager “Hi!” on each new thing to catch your attention; the TV, your toys, food items…..all are eagerly greeted and made to feel welcome.  This is never funnier than when I ask you a routine question like, “Edison, would you like some cheese, cereal, or yogurt?” and you come trotting my way calling out, “Hi, cheese!  Hi, cereal!  Hi, ice cream!”

Nice try.

Love,  Mama

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