Twenty months.
Holy crap.
I think I say that every time you hit another month birthday, but I really am starting to freak out a little bit. How is time marching on like this? Screw marching, it's FLYING by, zipping along, sending us all careening down the path towards Two.
I skipped last month on purpose. I was getting a little tired of writing about how awesome and wonderful and amazing you are. I know, it's hard to be me. But at 20 months, you are still great. You are a total pain in the ass when you want to impose your will on us, but I figure, everyone has to suffer through this. They don't call them the terrible twos for nothing.
And I do have to admit to having my moments... where I want you to understand why you are making me want to tear out my hair... and you just look at me and scream, or yell no, or throw something across the room... and then I realize you are 20 months old... and while you are a big kid? Eh, not that big. So we suffer through the tantrums and 5 minutes later, like nothing ever happened, you are all sunshine and rainbows again.
But toddlerhood is treating you well. You are still learning with reckless abandon and have a word count that is astonishing. I actually just stopped counting or caring because you were waking up in the mornings and giving me damn SENTENCES. "I see airplane Mama"... huh? That actually made sense. WTF. WHOAREYOUGROWNUPKID?
You still are obsessed with all things cars and airplanes and trucks and buses and anything that might have wheels and move. Like OBSESSED. And you are still in love with numbers and letters. We even started playing a game in the airport to keep you from sprinting off. Find me a letter... Find me a number... So instead of racing down the jetway towards the airplane, you are now looking around, trying to find the letter I just asked for. It's always really amusing when you do find it, and find the other ones that go along with it. S-O-U-T-H-W-E-S-T... You're a walking billboard for their company and most of the other passengers have thought it was HYSTERICAL, if not a little bit scary.
You are so independent. You can play outside in the backyard or in the living room while I do dishes. You like to help Mama in the mornings when we cook. "Cook Eggs Mama, Cook!!" is pretty much what I hear every morning, whether or not you actually want to eat them.
Oh the eating.
Eating has taken a turn for the strange in our house these days. Where you used to eat everything in sight, now you are particular. You still will eat it, but if you're not in the mood that day? Nope. It gets tossed. Like, tossed across the room on the wings of the plastic dinner plate I served it on. It is not your best feature. My mother in law made the point that everyone has days that they don't want certain food, and I agree, it's just one more sign that you are getting grown up. But since I'm the one making the food around here? You eat what I serve. Like it or not, I am NOT a short order cook. Tough Love Buddy.
I can't complain though. You are all things awesome. You ask for kisses, and still give hugs, and still think that we are hysterically funny. You are still a neat freak, something that hasn't been sucked out of you yet and I hope that it never will. God knows SOMEONE needs to keep this house clean.
You are amazing. You can be a terror. You are sweet and smart and fun and nuts. And as we race down the path towards two, all we can do is just hold on tight and enjoy the ride.
So it doesn't look like the face of a crazed lunatic but whoa, he's got all of us fooled...
