22 Months

Dear Ben,

You are officially 22 months old today, but I have been thinking about this post for weeks. Sweetheart, you are just the most fun ever! You keep getting better and better. There are a few things that I definitely want to remember about you at this age:

You are blossoming with language.  As I've reported in previous posts, you have a prodigious memory and love to talk.  In the past week or so, you've started putting together three-word sentences.  This week, you were trying to climb the stairs while carrying a Walgreen's bag with Dad's shaving cream in it.  I took it from you so you could be safe on the stairs.  You turned to me and said, quite clearly, "Give it back." Yesterday at dinner, Dad made you a bowl of frozen peas.  He put some on your plate, but that wasn't good enough for you.  Reaching toward the bowl, you said, "I wan it."  And, Baby, you got it.  If it's frozen peas you're after, we're sure not going to refuse.

A favorite activity of mine is playing "Fill in the blanks" with you while we're reading books.  I pause before finishing a sentence and you fill in the missing word.  Including words as big as "proclamation" from Naked Mole Rat Gets Dressed.  

As evidenced by the photo below, you're also exceedingly goofy and silly these days!  You think lots of things are a total riot.  I've had to curb my use of the word "naughty," because if I say it, then whatever it is you are doing becomes exactly what you want to do.  You also use this word spontaneously.  The other day, you were eating a piece of toast with peanut butter, and you kept walking out of the kitchen into the dining room.  I would call you back and give you the eye, and you would come back for a second, then smile huge, and step back out of the kitchen.  After doing this a few times you were almost bent over with giggles, looked right at me, and giddily pronounced, "Naughty!"

You are quite opinionated about what you want to do these days.  And, here's what you typically want to do: Wear "jammies!" (with the accent on "ies"). Go "outside" (with the accent on "out").  "Washing" "dishes" in the sink.  You could stand at the sink washing dishes all day long.  Go pee-pee on the potty. 

Thanks to Grandma and Bop Levy, we have a new toilet, tiles and paint job in the first floor powder room (a lovely birthday present to Noah and me).  This is very compelling to you and you have now convinced Dad and me at least four times to take off your pants and diaper and let you sit on the potty. (Twice, this has actually resulted in some pee-pee.)  The potty feeds right into your great love of routines.  From the Elmo Goes to the Potty coloring book Laura gave you (and that you quickly became obsessed with) you know the drill: Use the potty.  Wipe.  Flush.  Wash hands.  You like to repeat the first three steps endlessly.

You are also obsessed with my belly and your baby brother inside it.  You just love babies.  You talk about Zella ("Zeda" to you) all the time.  You tell me how she is a "baby" and you "rocked" her in her carseat.  You really want your brother to come out.  You frequently offer to "cut" open my belly with a "knife."  Glad we've progressed from "scissors."  This week, we went to the store together so you could buy a gift for your baby brother.  You chose a carrot rattle and a bunny rattle.  The lady at the store wrapped them for you and you paid with my credit card.  Then you carried the bag with the gift down Central Street.  To everyone who passed you, you turned and said, "Carrot."  Every few steps you stopped to peek in your bag to make sure the gift was still there."  Ever since, you've been telling folks that you bought your baby brother a "carrot."  It was a bit confusing to Daddy since "carrot" sounds remarkably similar to another favorite expression of yours, "Carry-it," which can mean either you want to carry something, or you want us to carry you.

 

I would be remiss if I failed to mention a few more delightful things you've done lately.  

First, you ran all the way home from Central Street after dinner with Nanna and Papa when they recently visited.  That's at least five long blocks.  You were smiling your huge, cheek-stretching smile the whole way.  When you saw two bunnies to chase, you ran all the faster. "Bunnies!"  Every once in a while you would stop to rest, curling down into the toddler squat, your hands on your knees, butt almost touching the ground, before sprinting forward again.  

You just loved your visit with Nanna and Papa and were very sad to see them go.  You've been asking for them ever since.  We had to spend a lot of time comforting you after they left, and you continue to tell us, "Nanna.  Papa.  Airport.  Airplane."  Yesterday, you told me that you were going to go to the airport on "Tuesday" in order to visit them.

I also discovered an activity that can divert you from even your favorite activity of washing dishes at the sink.  This week, after you helped me make enchiladas (and, you really have been helping in the kitchen lately.  You are a pro at unwrapping and washing tomatillos, placing chunks of chicken and grated cheese on tortillas -- even if you called the grated cheese "rice" -- and trying to roll them up) we made birdies out of cotton balls, paper and glue.  You were so excited about the glue that you fell off your chair reaching for it.  This was a pretty rough tumble -- you fell on your side and head and rolled away.  You cried at first.  But the thrilling magnetism of glue pulled you from your sadness and you were back at the table before I could finish wiping away your tears.  We made six birdies, we put them in an egg tray and counted them together.  Six birdies.  Six empty spots in the tray.  

When Dad came home, you screamed, "Birdies!"  (Your r's still don't come through so well, so Dad had no idea what you were saying.)  You rushed with Dad to the playroom.  So overcome with excitement were you that you couldn't see the birdies perched on the windowsill.  You dropped to your stomach and began to do an army crawl, a Navy Seal searching for those birdies among the blocks and puzzle pieces on the playroom rug. 

The following morning, when Grandma showed up to babysit, you spun from the sink where you were washing and practically fell off the chair shouting, "Birdies!  Birdies!"  A similar scene ensued.  Once we successfully located the birdies, you excitedly told Grandma, "Cut!  Glue!  Bird-ees!"  Man are you proud of those birdies!

"Making Noise!"  Or "Make a noise."  Finally, a great debate is ranging between me and Dad.  For a few weeks now, you've been obsessed with "Noise!"  You tell us when you hear a noise.  You tell us when you make a noise.  You go to great lengths to make noise whenever you can.  Using my cell phone cord against the radiators is one of your favorite ways.  I think you're saying "Making noise."  Dad insists its a three-word sentence, "Make a noise."  I'm totally right, but soon you'll probably start saying "Make a noise," just to prove me wrong.  

Sweet boy, I could go on and on about all the lovely, fun things you do these days.  You are so sweet and loving.  It totally makes up for the fact that I have to spend all day threatening to "help" you do things rather than having you do them by your "self" in order to get anything done at all.  It totally makes up for the raging meltdown you had following your nap yesterday where Dad and I just couldn't figure out how to help you calm down (some milk and pretzels eventually helped). It totally makes up for your insistence on getting the "yittle" (little) "clear" bottle instead of the sippy cups you're supposed to be drinking out of.

I so wish you could just stay this age forever.  And, I'm so compelled to see what comes next.

Love,

Mama