For starters, let's review all the words you've picked up in this past month or so. By far, our favorite word is "cracker". To which you add your own unique pronounciation flare to make it sound something like craaacc-oore. There is a definitive pause between the 'craaacc' and 'oore' part. Sort of like that pause between shifting from first to second gear. And everything with a crunchy texture is cracker to you. Cheerios? Craaacc-kkaahh. Toast? Craaacc-kkaahh. But I always tell you what the food really is, Jack. Because when I was little, my parents lied to me about food. Yes, you read correctly. LIED. Your grandparents, Jack. You're right - they should be ashamed.For many years and countless numbers of dinners, I was told we were eating steak. Once in a while, I found the steak to taste a little odder than usual. A little denser. A little more yuck. Then one day, I learned to read. One night, during "special steak" night, I caught a glimpse of the "special steak" package. I said, "Mom, what does L-I-V-E-R spell?" And that is when I learned the awful, painful truth, Jack. I vowed at that very moment to never blatantly and callously lie to you about food the way some parents did to cover up a sickening, horrible reality. Your grandparents will have to live with that guilt for the rest of their life. Can you imagine the shame they must feel, Jack?
Now, back to you. And how I take the moral high ground by refusing to tell an innocent child a lie about organ meats. You also picked up the word "water" this month. And nothing compares to how when I ask if you want water, you smile this gigantic smile and say "ot-ter". Yes, like the sea-faring mammal. It is so beyond adorable, I just want to squeeze your cheeks as I type this. You've also been saying "apple" for quite a while now which in your world is "ap-poh". You also know that a duck says "quack quack" and you're pronounciation in this arena is improving quite a bit, thankfully. Originally, you would proclaim, "cock cock" which made it socially awkward for us when you saw a duck in public.
Perhaps the best and worst word you've also learned this month is "book". Everything is about the book, Jack. Mom's sitting down? Book. Dad entered the room? Book. Mom's pulling her hair out trying to avoid walking over top of you as she frantically prepares dinner? Book. Sometimes you'll sit forever just looking back and forth through the book and listening to us make up stories. Sometimes you barely last five seconds before you're off our lap looking for another one. I'm thrilled to see you enjoying the world of Spot and Dr. Seuss. OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN.
With the good has come the less than good. This month you also started temper tantrums. Not pretty. Not pretty at all. If something's not going the way you intended, we - and our neighbours within a two-block radius - hear about it. It starts off as your standard protest cry but then escalates like one of those emergency evacuation alarms. It's deafening, really. Impressively, I believe you've also managed to activate a chain reaction of car alarms with that howl.
But you are still my most favorite, huggable, laughable, tiny hockey-haired boy. I love how I put you down for a nap with pretty reasonable hair and you awake with this Ludwig van Beethoven-inspired set of crazy curls. I love how you play so coy by tucking your head against your shoulder and smiling so hard I think your face is going to permanently stretch. I love how when I come home, you come lumbering around the corner with your new toddler walk all smiles and teeth ready to drool on my new pants. I'll take the drool over the fancy pants any day, Ludwig.
Love,
Your Momma
