The Third One

Posted by on Feb 11, 2013 in Mothering | 0 comments

Dear Greer,

On Saturday you turned one year old. I know. This is late. I haven’t been especially good about keeping you all up to date on your happenings, primarily because the happenings have so often involved fevers and insane amounts of running, though not necessarily at the same time. It’s been a whirlwind of hours and days and weeks, flying by faster than I can update the whiteboard in the kitchen. You are a very big contributor to the chaos.

You walk. You run. You climb stairs. You threaten to tumble down them (sometimes you do). Sometimes you go down on your tummy.

You eat. You like peaches but you love grapes. You love biscuits and haven’t met a muffin that you didn’t like. Meat is gross. Apples are still choke inducing. Please don’t mention those cheesy puff Gerber things right now because you may have put one in the wrong way and wedged your mouth open with it. Before the wedge, they were on the always-please-right now list. If you want something that you can see (like the leftover cupcakes from your birthday), you will clearly say “THAT” and point toward the desire of your heart. It’s adorable and still kind of startling.

You still love Poppy and YiaYia’s dogs. Your brother hates them now. They are too smelly, too noisy, too much for him to have to deal with while he’s eating/playing LEGOs/setting up Memorial Stadium in the basement. But you? You love them so much. The squeals that come out of your throat when you see them are high pitched and shrill. You say ‘Puppy’ in that same ear piercing tone and then jabber at them with enthusiasm. You hug them. You occasionally try to ride them. You always throw them the food you don’t want. It’s very, very sweet.

Your love for Gideon endures. He’s still your favorite human. If he’s paying attention to you, the world is right (unless he is redirecting you from the television or his LEGOs, then he can keep it. You don’t need another parent). He tries very hard to take good care of you and you welcome his love with toothy drooly smiles of delight.

You like Piper fine, but wish she would leave you alone. She’s kind of competing with you for toys so there’s more tension between the two of you over pink princess cars and certain baby dolls, but I suppose that’s the way sisters are.

You love Dada and get so happy when he comes through the door. You’re usually perched in your high chair by that time, waiting for him to come and join you at the table, so when the door opens, you shout-whisper “Who’s that?” and then rock your head back and forth to hide. It’s adorable. He loves it. He loves you.

You recently started neck hugging us in the tightest best way ever. Your chubby baby arms wrap all the way around our necks and you squeeze with all your might, sometimes wiggling your whole body like you wish you could push your way inside of our chests. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll always be inside of there.

Sometimes you draw with crayons with the older two. Sometimes you play nicely in your crib in the pink room while they play Princesses & Ponies versus LEGOs & Transformers. Sometimes you spend a half hour just walking around from the pink car to the stand up music table and the window. You always hug the vacuum when it appears. If I’m cleaning with a rag, you’ll go get napkins and do the same thing I am. You make airplane sounds and spin around with toys in your hands until you fall down.

You’re crying right now, so I have to save you. Your snotty nose is keeping you from napping well. Maybe it’s your teeth. Maybe it’s a cold. Either way, I know these days of cuddling you while you sleep won’t last very much longer. I love you forever and ever,
Mama

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