Twenty-Two Months

Dear Zachary,

The theme of these last few months has been inconsistency; your "schedule" kept changing as we dealt with the AP exam prep rush, the end of the school year, teacher in-service, packing and moving to the new campus, weddings, going on vacation to Seattle, and then finally settling into summer vacation. And just as we're getting the hang of being together alldayeveryday, things are going to change again when school starts up in a couple of weeks. Still, you've been remarkably flexible, all things considered, and generally you're amiable to schedule changes. As long as you've got snacks and toys, you're pretty good. I do see some clouds on the horizon though ("Crebain from Dunland!") in your tiny meltdowns over not getting your way. It remains to be seen whether we will somehow miraculously escape the epic toddler tantrums I've been warned about.

You were such a trooper at the two weddings we went to this summer!
There are still two more to go to this year, so we'll see how things go. 

In the meantime, I'm going to try my hardest to enjoy this time where you're 1) pretty good at understanding what I say and following directions, but 2) not verbal enough to express opinions about my decisions, and 3) not old enough to stage a full-blown protest. You're learning new things every day and constantly surprising me with what you're capable of, so things are pretty fun. I almost feel bad about having to go back to school!

love,

Mommy

I'm pretty sure you would feel just fine about going back to school though...more things to climb on!

Some snippets about you from the last three months:

Language Skills: I was starting to be worried about your not talking more, but in the last two weeks you've been picking up 1-3 new words a day. I'm glad I was patient and trusted you to have your own pace of development, because it is so fun to see you decide on your word(s) of the day! It is slightly less fun to have to talk to you about that thing all day, but the plus side of waiting and waiting and waiting to hear you talk more is that I'm more willing to discuss cows a hundred times in a morning? Some of the most recent additions to your vocabulary are yeah (because when you yell "Mama!" all day, I always respond with "yeah?"), which is fun because now you can finally answer questions in the affirmative, cow (helpful because your previous word for cow, "mmmm," was easy to mishear), lion (I told you we were going to the zoo and you decided that that was impetus enough; besides, how else would you be able to ask fifty times on the way to the zoo if there would be lions?), sit (which unfortunately sounds a lot like "shit"), done (you yell it so triumphantly when you decide you're done with dinner), and wow (you draw this one out so that you sound like you're extra impressed). Besides picking up new words, you are also better at using your signs to communicate when you want something. Before, I would guess at what you wanted and prompt you to make the sign, but now you'll spontaneously sign "eat" or "water" or "noodles" to make your requests known. Friends of older toddlers warn me that when you have sentences, I'll long for the preverbal days, but right now I'm just excited to see two-way communication!

You are such a ham! You had way too much fun smooshing your face against the office window (and licking it) at the new building for a delighted (and slightly horrified) audience. 

Motor Skills: It turns out that you just needed to play with some toddler friends in order to be inspired to climb playground structures. Cassidy has been great for getting you to try new things, and now you're a pro at climbing the playground structures and going down slides by yourself. You are also almost jumping (sometimes you just jerk your body in random directions and surprise yourself by lifting off), capable of climbing stairs while standing instead of crawling (this was motivated by the need to climb stairs while holding toys and snacks), and dextrous enough to actually put your Duplos together without help.

You did not want to climb onto this turtle yourself. I had to lift you onto it and you were dubious.

Intellectual Skills: You know SO MANY animals. Wait, scratch that, you know so many African savanna animals. You don't much care for the rainforest, temperate climes, or Arctic tundra, but boy do you know your lions, giraffes, zebras, cheetahs, leopards, gazelles, wildebeest, meerkats, rhinos, hippos, and warthogs! Barnyard animals are also a big hit, and throw in a couple of random other animals like wolves ("ah-oo"), dinosaurs ("dino"), and dragons ("dobby"). Shapes and colors are still beyond you, but you know that the number six comes after five. You take great delight in sorting and lining up your cars and animal models (and you know when one is missing). Just in the last few weeks, you've suddenly figured out imaginary play, so now your cow/pig/sheep/horse/giraffe friends must pretend to drink water, eat snacks, and take naps. You've decided that Daddy's calculator is a good substitute for a phone, so you'll ask calculator-Siri for cat pictures and then talk to imaginary people and hang up after saying "bye bye!" But best of all, you're starting to really make connections between what you read and the real world. When your balloon popped, you wanted to read Oh My Oh My Oh Dinosaurs over and over again to help you process this traumatic situation. You love looking at the baby hippo in the car seat in One Two Three (five works well for a ride in the car, as long as the car ride isn't too far)!

You still love Sandra Boynton and all the Costco books with real animal pictures, but a surprising favorite "story" is what I call Bebbers Went to the Zoo. It's your favorite story when we come back from a zoo: we trace our route along the zoo map and talk about the animals we saw. After Seattle, we told the story so many times that the map fell apart and had to be (secretly) recycled. 

Social Skills: We've finally given you more opportunities to play with kids more or less your age! Between playdates with Cassidy, hanging out with JJ during Bible study, and zoo trips with Wes, plus random other hang outs, you're beginning to recognize and have fun playing with other kids. So far (knock on wood) you seem open to sharing snacks and toys, and if things get taken from you you're pretty chill and can move on to another toy. There are some things you're fiercely possessive of, though -- one time Mommy gave your dino cup to Cassidy and you just. Could. Not. Handle. It. Meltdown ensued and long story short, I had to find a different cup for Cassidy. You've also gotten better at waving hi in greeting (usually only when prompted, but you will do so spontaneously to babies at the zoo/library/park) and high-fiving/fist-bumping for goodbye. Your hugs are sweet and usually happily given, but kisses (i.e. pressing your face into the other person's cheek, but without the smack sound -- which you're totally capable of doing -- and then in a very French manner, doing the same on the other cheek) are saved for a select few. You are also very good at petting animals gently and holding out a fist for smelling first, and one time you happily fed a dozen cheddar rockets to a random florist dog.

I love love love that Cassidy lives close enough to be your more-or-less regular playmate.
You're not as much a fan of Gus, though, since you get jealous of Mommy's attention. 

Current Favorites: 

• Little Baby Bum videos, especially Wheels on the Bus. Thank goodness there are ten versions, all different, or else I would go crazy. 
• Having an audience while you eat. An assortment of animals or vehicles provides moral support while Mommy and Daddy try to convince you to eat meat. 
• Noodles/pasta, berries, cherries, watermelon, peaches, cheese, raisins, and Trader Joe's honey whole wheat pretzel sticks. Still not a fan of meat (you will tolerate shrimp) or most green veg (peas and green beans are acceptable, occasionally broccoli or zucchini).
• Zoos/animals. We've been making good use of our Oakland zoo membership and going at least once a week, much to your delight. We even went to the Seattle and SF zoos, but those were less delightful because of the lack of elephants. Your favorite things to see are still the African savanna animals and petting zoo animals, but there are surprisingly few places that feature all your favorites in one place. 

 

The Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle let you get pretty close to the lion...statue, that is. 

I'm still impressed that you recognized these as giraffe ears and horns!
You loved these photo op backgrounds at the SF Zoo.

• Speed and excitement. Things like being tossed into the air, riding in the grocery cart when we push you really fast across the parking lot, and running up and down the hallway while Mommy, Daddy, and Walnut chase you. We are all shocked, frankly, that Walnut cooperates with this game. 
• Lining things up. On the windowsill, on tables, on the couch, on the magnet board, anywhere where you can take a visual inventory of all your animals and vehicles. 
• Escalators and elevators. Your favorite favorite thing in Seattle was riding the three flights of escalators at our hotel, and if we had let you I'm pretty sure your second favorite would have been pressing all the buttons in the elevator. 

The beginning of this obsession started with the moving sidewalk at the airport.

• Pressing buttons that result in a form of water being dispensed. You love sneaking into the kitchen and pressing the water dispenser on the fridge and getting cold water all over yourself. When we were staying in Seattle you loved running down the hall to get ice from the ice machine. 

I'm sure eating the ice afterward wasn't too shabby either if that face is anything to go by!

Nineteen Months

I really didn't intend to let so much time go by without blogging your growth and development, but having a toddler is really so much more work than a newborn! Well no, scratch that, there's just less nap time downtime for me to write. So no thoughtful letter this time around, just quickly jotted down stories so that I remember what you've been like the last five months.

I think this picture is fairly representative of the current state of things: Walnut is resigned and lazy but still secretly begging for belly pats, you are goofy and into elephants and balls. 

• For a while, you were really into this dollar store package of yellow balloons. You wanted to carry them everywhere and point to every balloon on the package sand say "Ball! Ball! Ball!" like some kind of weird balloon affirmation ritual. More than once, you tried to bring it to a meal, but we have a no toys and books at the table rule (the latter is really necessary for both you and me, less so for Daddy), so I took it away. You had the saddest crumple-face meltdown and refused to eat without your beloved package of balloons. I really wanted to 1) laugh at how pathetic the whole situation was, and 2) capitulate, because you were really so sad, but I held strong and calmly reminded you of the rule.  

Teary-eyed over a package of balloons. 

• You are really into looking at books with real animal pictures, so I've been checking those out at the library for you. You loved the last batch so much, they were overdue for three weeks and I ended up paying over $20 worth of fines. Oops. Generally I try to return library books without you in tow, because when you saw the book return machine eating "your" soccer ball book, you got seriously upset. I thought I was being so clever by returning them solo, but the other day we mentioned one of the library books and you promptly went running throughout the house looking for it. I'm amazed (and so proud) that that book apparently made such an impact that you remember it even a month later! You are indeed your mother's child. 

Even the SPCA fundraising booklet is acceptable reading material, because it has pictures of cats and dogs in it.

• You are still more of a cat person than a dog person. Granted, ever since Sandra Boynton's Doggies went missing a month ago, you've periodically pointed at its picture on the back of her other books, and asked where it is, but I like to tell myself that that's because you like inventorying, and not that you really like dogs that much. I console myself that every morning, your first order of business is finding Walnut to say hi, and every night, you have to say goodnight to Walnut and give him a kiss before you can sleep. When we go out, I am always surprised when you point and insist that you see a cat that I can't see, and then it turns out that you were right, there really was a cat. Or tiger. Or something else vaguely cat-like. Daddy says you're an S for cats. 
• You might also be a J. You love inventorying your toys: cars, dinosaur food, hotel shampoo bottles, wooden stacking rings, and gelato containers all get lined up, appraised, then rearranged into a more pleasing configuration. You sometimes get a little too eager to clean up and throw everything into the laundry basket regardless of whether or not it needs a wash. So far, you seem pretty amenable to cleaning up when I say it's time, knock on wood... 

You tried to help out the library by rearranging all the chairs in the kids area .

• Besides running, you can now walk backwards and on tippy-toes, as well as hang out in an Asian squat. You can also approximate a bow (to the horse and cow), strut (like a duck), and spin (with the chickens, cluck cluck cluck). You're also ridiculously fast, more resilient to falls, reaching to the third shelf of the EXPEDIT, and climbing the boxes barricading the penguin humidifier in your room. 
• But you are really cautious in new environments. When we go to the park, you do not want to let go and explore. Given your choice, you prefer to stay in my arms for the first several minutes when in a new place, then depending on how stimulating the environment is, you may cautiously explore. No amount of warming up time, though, seems to be enough to get you to climb a play structure. 
• I was beginning to think that you would escape having a security item, but now you seem fairly attached to your towel-turned-"bo"-blankie. After I spent all of third trimester lovingly sewing quilts and plushies for you, of course you would glom onto a mass-produced, non-marine-themed towel, of all things. From Hong Kong*, no less, so there's no buying replacements if this one goes missing. Sigh. It is pretty cute, though, seeing you pad around the house with a little light blue blankie like Linus. 

Not the greatest picture, but that's the towel blankie. This was the morning you insisted on wearing Daddy's sock. 

• Bebberousness is brought to you by the letter B. No surprise there, I suppose, considering we call you Bebbers, Mr. Bebs, Bub, etc. But what I meant to say is that most of your "vocabulary" is some variant of bo/ba/bee. Bo = ball or balloon or elephant or your blankie (which has elephants on it), ba = zebra or bus or bye or sheep or please pick me up, depending on the context, bee = berries or beans or babies or bellybutton or bear, again, depending on the context. But hey, at least you finally call me Mommy now, or rather, Mae, as in mah-mae. Of course, you also call the moon mae, but then I guess my name originates from the Greek goddess of the moon...perhaps you can somehow intuit name etymology? You have also picked up D sounds, but because Daddy always asks you to say "please, Daddy," you've come to the conclusion that dada = please. 
• You have become a self-proclaimed vegetarian/occasional pescatarian. If it were up to you, you would live on carbs, fruit, and beans/legumes. It's a struggle to get you to eat any chicken or pork, and you pretty much won't touch any form of beef. If you're in the mood, you'll eat fish. Cheese and egg are tolerable, but really, a diet of blueberries and strawberries would be just fine with you. Perhaps you are secretly a fruit bat? 

You didn't want your turkey, but Walnut was all too happy to take it off your hands for you. 

• When I was growing up, I was always hanging around church while my parents were in meetings. You, on the other hand, are always hanging around school while your mom does review sessions. Generally, I can't complain about your behavior; you're more or less quiet and you haven't destroyed anything or hurt yourself too badly, and you're willing to be pacified with snacks, calculators, and of course, selfies on student phones. It's ridiculous how good you are at taking selfies. I also hear that you enjoy Snapchat, so in that arena you're more up to date than I am! You have your favorite teachers (Mrs. Condit and Mrs. Sun, of course, and Lester) and students (Maggie, hands down) and classrooms (Mrs. Campbell's room, with all the tigers on the walls), so I hope you have as many fond memories as I do of that old church building.  

At school, ready to learn!

• It's scary how much you learn from watching and listening to us. You want so badly to be just like all the "adults" in your life! I say "adults" in quotation marks because, besides learning to vacuum the couch and under the table like I do (no lazy slapdash vacuuming for you!), you also learned to use phones to take a hundred selfies, probably from students at school. You also insist on having deodorant in your armpits (Daddy fakes the application with a covered stick), sitting on chairs at desks when at school, and trying to help dust the furniture when I do. If you can get ahold of a calculator, you hold it to your ear and babble for a while, then say "bye bye!"  I always knew toddlers were like little sponges, but I think it really sank in when you started saying "bad 貓貓!" every time you saw crumbs or other litter on the floor. It took me a while to figure out what you were saying, but one morning you pointed to a hairball under the piano bench and said "bad 貓貓!" and I suddenly realized that I always call Walnut a bad 貓貓 when he makes a mess exiting his litter box. Oops. Thankfully it's not a cuss word, but I do feel slightly bad every time you try to blame a mess on your big brother. Still, I have to laugh whenever we're at school and you exclaim "bad 貓貓!" when walking through the classrooms after kids have been messily snacking.  

Also not a cuss word, but still concerning? One time you pulled up Siri and babbled at it, and apparently Siri thought you asked for a sex movie.

• You are finally developing a sense of humor about incongruous statements/situations. You'll smile deviously and shake your head no when I ask if you're a little boy, then nod yes that you're a cat. You ask to wear your socks on your hands and laugh when you can't pick things up. If I put my shirt on you, you run to the mirror and giggle at your reflection. Lately, you've been requesting to be rolled up/tucked in with a blanket so that you look like a baby burrito once more.  

• You are such a busy little person. If you're not arranging all your toys, you are busy opening up all your containers and pouring out their contents, pulling all the books off your shelves, or toting your food pouches back and forth. There have been multiple occasions when Daddy has come home from work to find that his socks and boxers have all been rearranged because you took them all out, then put them back in (of your own accord!) in a different order. In the backyard, you love trotting back and forth with your little cup to water all the plants, and if the plant tags are close enough to the edge of the planter box, you will dutifully collect them all and present them to Daddy. 
• Everything needs to have a signature noise. I suppose that's really our own fault, what with emphasizing that cows go moo, sheep say baa, and three singing pigs say la la la. Unfortunately, that means I frequently have to improvise when you want to know what noise a giraffe makes (we settled on "nom nom nom" since they're ruminants), or a rabbit ("hippitty-hop"), or an alligator ("snap! snap!"). Worst improvisations: a snail (according to your Auntie Emily, "snurrrr....snurrrr...") and a beansta, because one time we tried Trader Joe's black bean rotini, which was nasty, but bean + pasta = beansta, which was too evocative of a name not to attempt illustrating, so I drew one on the whiteboard and then you wanted to know what noise it made, so Daddy decided that it could just say its name several times in quick succession, like a Pokemon. 

That's the beansta on the bottom left, with a grill and a blingy necklace and wielding a gun and a syringe full of drugs. "Beansta beansta!" On the right, next to the periodic table, is a Japanese beansta, courtesy of Auntie Emily. 

*You also LOVE the little public light bus model that Lester has in his office, so maybe we are indoctrinating you correctly, that Hong Kong is the best.