Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Dear Boy (two and a half years old)
My little love, you are two and a half years old today. It's been six months since I wrote your last letter and my, what a six months it has been. We've had some marvellous times and some sad times.
We lost my Poppa and travelled north to laugh and cry with our family. You played with a new array of cousins and squirmed and squealed through the funeral. You patted my cheek when I wailed and whined when you were squished in the biggest of bear hugs between me and your uncles. You insisted on wandering off during the internment and had to be rescued before you fell into the grave... twice. I was changing you in the back of the car at the cemetery and poor distracted Grandad jumped in and started to drive away, with me and your little naked legs hanging out the open back door. You laughed and ran as fast as your two little legs would carry you during the wake, desperate to join the cousins up the stage of the church hall. You sighed and slept on the long drive back to the city.
You discovered the delights of Easter and an egg hunt, 'practicing' for weeks before you scored any chocolate. Even now you ask for egg hunts, to search around the house for the multi-coloured plastic eggs. You also enjoyed our month of 'health' and the idea of caring for something beyond yourself. Your dear little soul calls out to the poor wounded dollies, administering band-aids and kisses and 'medicine to make me better'.
One of the biggest changes has probably been my new job taking me off to work more days of the week and increasing the number of yours in childcare. But you love those ladies and they love you. They delight in you almost as much as we do. You take in your books and 'read' to the other kids. You insist on wearing your new bracelet so you can show your friends. You run into the run and give everyone a big 'oh, hi' and they come running to you and 'oh, hi' you back. They are your tribe almost as much as we are.
You have been exploring the idea of family, our own big and complex tribe. We look at photos of us and me and you and them, and you can name most of them. Some you only know from the photos, but you know their names. Sort of... sorry, Aunty De-La-Weeze. They are all your people and you laugh at your memories of them. Your crazy, mental uncles and your big kissing, hand-me-down and schlubby blanket aunts ('please can you lift up Aunty K's schlubby blanket, Mummy? I want it to touch my hands'). You see yourself in all the old photos of me and Daddy and Uncle X ('that's me! And that's me! And that's me! No, not you Mummy! You're not a baby!').
You are growing up so quickly, I am starting to look back at your baby pictures and reminisce. It is both hard and a delight to see you growing up. We are so proud of you.
P.S. Congratulations on learning how to jump. The look on your face when you finally got two feet off the ground... at the same time... was priceless.