Sunday, December 12, 2010
The Squirt:: 19 months
Boy oh boy Chickie. You have had quite a month. It's amazing how, like, three days after you were officially one and a half, a toddler, you changed into a little boy. There isn't one single smidgen of baby left in you and it's freakin' awesome.
It's also proven to be a bit destructive. Your super powers for chaos are strong. Dad and I haven't quite figured out your kryptonite yet but we're working on it. Once we discover the thing that brings you down, you and your terrorizing ways will be squashed. But, we'll still love you and play with you and take you places and buy you french fries. We're just nice like that.
In the last four weeks you've had bronchitis and mild croup and a pretty serious bout of asthma that got you at the Primary Children's Instacare for a few hours. You set off Grandma Connie's house alarm and called 911 on Grandma Judy's cell phone. The first incident was easy to fix - the second resulted in a visit to the house by the police - and I don't mean Sting and Stuart Copeland.
You only puked, I think, twice in the last month which is a record. You are still a terrible sleeper and the last week has sucked dead goat as far as you sleeping is concerned but hopefully, some day, you will turn a corner and decided it's cool to sleep at night instead of waking up four times a night, screaming as if you were being attacked by a moose, and wandering around the house.
Fun times, kiddo. Fun times.
I am most proud of you this month for eating and talking. You have decided that food is your friend and are almost down to no bottles at night to supplement the lack of nutrients you receive during the day. You have started to eat chicken!!!! It's awesome. In our house we love good eaters and you are starting to fit right in. Sitting at the dinner table every night and watching you eat, and play, and be part of the family is just so much fun. You make us laugh little boy. You are infectious and contagious and one of the funniest things around.
And you're starting to talk - not just babble, but real communication. We've almost mastered "Thank you" even though you'll only do it for me, and we're working on "please" and just for fun, "Fart" because that seems to be your favorite past time in the last week. A couple of weeks ago I told you that you were "coo-coo". Now you wander around the house like a parrot calling everyone the same. When you want something, or like something you say, "uh-huh" and for the opposite, "Nuh-huh". It comes with a big head nod and smile that's just too funny.
Just the other night we were waiting for your dad and brother and you found a football. You my little Chickadee set that ball on the floor, said your version of one, a very clear two, and then charged at the football and kicked it from the kitchen table to the back door. A mighty distance for one who doesn't have the best coordination.
You always want to sit on the counter when we're in the kitchen. I never lift you up. I think if you could talk, you'd yell at me for always saying, "Say UP Wyatt and I'll pick you up." The other night though you were begging me to get you up. I just looked into your cute beady little eyes, said, "Say UP, Wyatt" and guess what, you yelled UP!!!!! at the top of your lungs. It was so great. Now, up is the word for up, down, out, in and pretty much everything else that requires movement or the desire to be carried around. It's cool though - I don't mind.
I love you so much little fart. You are so much my boy that I don't know what I would do, or the world would do without a little spitfire spirit like yours. Nothing stands in your way. You are smart as a whip, quick to catch on, and can figure out how to take apart nearly everything that is placed in front of you. You are determined to have the world and with that kind of attitude, one day the world will be destined to be yours for the taking.