Greetings Little One

Brute

Today you head-butted my neck so hard that I had to sit down for a moment, little Charlie.

You cried as a result of smacking me, but on the inside, I cried longer.

It really hurt.

You made a collage.

This is photographic evidence that you occasionally engage in arts and crafts at school, little one. Every day your teachers write a description of the day’s activities, and it quite often includes a line like, “Some of us painted today.”

The choice of phrasing is almost always because of your refusal to participate in these activities.

Part of me wishes you would be more willing to go along with what your teachers have planned, and part of me is exceedingly proud of your willingness to swim against the stream.

A social butterfly? I would’ve never guessed.

I dropped you off at Thomas’s house today, little one. It’s the third consecutive weekend that I have dropped you off for a play date. Knowing that Mommy is on bed rest, people have been kind enough to offer to take you off our hands for a few hours so I can get some things done.

What has shocked me the most about these play dates is your willingness to go. When I dropped you off today, you never even bothered to say goodbye. Quick as a flash, you and Thomas had taken off for the backyard, leaving me in the dust.

It’s frankly unbelievable. My tentative, shy, overly-attached daughter is no more. 

Now you constantly talk about your desire to sleep over a friend’s house, as if this idea is completely normal and fully expected. You still sleep in a crib, little one, but you’re already more than ready to spend the night without Mommy or Daddy at someone else’s home.

Today you were even discussing a “rattle date.” This is (according to you) a play date with your friends’ baby brothers and sisters. Your plan is to invite them all over to the house so that you can share your old baby rattles with them.

It’s true that while you are at school, you still gravitate towards playing by yourself and are often stubborn about participating in group activities (Mommy seems to think this is the result of my genes), but you also have this surprising social side that I never thought we would see. It’s truly amazing.

Probably Mommy’s genes asserting themselves. 

Either way, I’m so glad, little one. Watching you run around the side of that house today with your little friend, screaming with excitement, was a joy to behold.

Fostering disobedience

You and Ella were playing upstairs, little one.

I was sitting on the stairs, listening to be sure that you didn’t jump out of a window or set your underwear on fire.

You asked Ella to take off her shoes so she could jump on the bed with you.

“My mommy said I have to leave my shoes on,” Ella said.

“But your mommy isn’t here,” you replied.

Corrupting the young, little one? I was both horrified and a little proud of you in that moment. 

Dancing in the daylight

You love to dance, little one. Even in a coffee shop on a weekday morning.

 

Holding a grudge

One of the most important things we learned from your parent-teacher conference today:

It’s true. Teddy ripped a page out of a book, and he did it on purpose. Your constant and consistent complaints about Teddy’s transgression were born from an actual, intentional transgression.

I’m sorry I ever doubted you.

The fact that this happened months ago and you’re still talking about it is now the problem, little one.

It’s time to move on. 

Gratitude journal: Frightened daughter

Is it wrong of me to be grateful that the animatronic dinosaurs at the Connecticut Science Center scared the hell out of you, little one, causing you to cling to me like never before?

Sure, it would’ve been nice if you had enjoyed the exhibit a little more, but having an opportunity to play the role of the protector and know that my daughter felt safe in my arms was worth a little bit of fear.

Besides, being a little afraid can be fun at any age. Right?

Traitorous progeny

You were visiting a farm, populated by at least a dozen different animals, and more importantly, you know that bees kill me dead.

So with all the animals that you could choose to imitate, why would you choose this, little one?

For the record, you are allergic to peanuts. If you’re not careful, I might just rent a Mr. Peanut costume and torment you with it for a day.

Gratitude journal: Clara’s kisses

Tonight I am grateful for the way you will grab hold of my the cheeks and pull me in for a kiss.

There will come a day when your kisses are decidedly less exuberant and significantly better aimed, little one, and that will be a sad day indeed. 

Gratitude journal: You love dinosaurs!

You love dinosaurs, little one.

I don’t know if this is normal for little girls, but if it is, I don’t want anyone to tell me. I’d like to think that it’s highly abnormal. And permanent. And special. 

I’d like to think that my geeky, childhood love for dinosaurs has somehow rubbed off on my daughter or been genetically transferred to her in some unexpected, inexplicable, magical way.