Thirty Months

Two and a half is that awkward age. You're not quite two, and you're not quite three. You want to hold onto that innocence of two but are eager for the freedoms that come with three. Freedoms like depositing your poop into a toilet instead of dragging it around with you in a diaper. Can you smell it, Jack? No, not the poop, Jack. The freedom. Three. It's just around the corner.


I am stunned by all the changes we've seen in you since you turned two. At two, so many things were still a challenge to you and your lack of mastery of certain tasks would drive you to the brink of insanity. You wanted to be able to put the shapes in the shape sorter, but your hands and eyes just couldn't make it come together. You would scream and throw the sorter and flail yourself around the room until you were exhausted with frustration. Now you do that for an assortment of other reasons, but you've mastered those shapes. You showed that oval who was boss. You won't be taking any more crap from that hexagon. Two and a half has brought you so much more control over your world that you seem to relish the chance to practice your burgeoning skills each day.


You continue to be wholly consumed by trucks, much to my chagrin. I have tried, tried, tried to get you interested in other things: dinosaurs, animals, dragons, rocket ships, The Rock of Love Season Two. But you will not stop with the trucks. I suppose I should just resign myself to this reality, particularly since each time we plan to go to someone's house, you quickly run down the list of trucks each house has. When you haven't been somewhere, you are fast to ask which trucks they may have.


As you get older and your love of trucks begins to fade from your memory (oh, I pray), I want you to know about this very special time in our family's life. Since your brother was born, your dad has taken time off work to be home with us for eight months. You aren't likely to remember this when you are older, and that is such a shame because you are having the most wonderful time of your life right now, I believe. Every single day, your dad has been here to play trains in the morning and wrestle with you at night. He's taken you to all sorts of places and shown such love and joy just having the chance to be with you. It takes a pretty special man to walk a different path in life and live a life that shows his values not just through words but action. As you grow older, I hope you can be that same kind of man, Jack.

Love,
Your Momma

Twenty-Nine Months

Do you see how we've become much less diligent in providing updates on your life, Jack? Do you know why? It's because momma isn't getting much sleep these days with your new little brother, Evan, in the house. And without sleep, darling Jackie, momma isn't too good with the words. She also isn't too good at remembering why she walked downstairs to get something. "What did I come down here for?", she asks herself, and stands helplessly at the bottom of the stairs wondering if she should just give up and lay in an unshowered, exhausted, pajama-covered blob until someone comes to find her to feed your brother again. But I digress...

You have been quite happy to welcome Evan into our lives, but really haven't paid him much attention - positive or negative - to this point. The first day you met him at the hospital you were far more interested in what I had on my breakfast tray. Hospital muffin or new brother? Well, that decision wasn't too hard for you to make. I mean, the muffin did have apple in it, after all.


Since we all came home, you've been pretty great about helping with certain aspects of your little brother's life. You are fantastic at grabbing us his diapers, showing him your toys, and fetching his soother by transporting it ever so lovingly in your own mouth. That is true brotherly love when you are willing to share your own spit with him. Selfless, Jack. That's you.

You dance around him each morning to welcome him to the new day, and come precariously close to leaving your footprints on his soft little noggin'. But so far, all damages have been averted. You seem to love to kiss him several times each day and often inquire as to where he is. When you are tired of mom feeding him and not playing "digger builds a road" for the 754th time that day, you occasionally proclaim, "No Evan! No like Evan." Fortunately, those moments are far between and nothing a little quality time loading farm animals into your garbage truck can't cure.

As for you, you are hilarious. And frustrating. Not long after your twenty-eighth month, you decided a really great way to get mom or dad to come get you in the morning was to rip off your diaper and smear pee and poop all over the place. To your credit, you also appeared to tear open the diaper and let all the pretty little beads cascade across your crib like droplets of rain over a forest. How beautiful. So, this was when I had to institute nightly "special tape" time. You came to love "special tape" time and would ask for it each night after we started it. "Special tape" was mom's code words for taking a roll of duct tape and wrapping it around the waist of your pajamas so you could neither remove said pajamas or access the previously mentioned diaper. You were so proud of your tape you would run to show daddy each night. We were so proud of our ingenuity and another fantastic new use of duct tape.

Jack, you are turning out to be an awesome big brother. It has brought me to tears many times watching you gently touch Evan's head, kiss his cheek, or ask to hold him while you sit on the couch. As a mom to two, I can't but help feel at times I'm not getting to spend the kind of time with you that I wish I could. But you are remarkably forgiving and understanding, and just smile and laugh during the times we actually get alone together. You are a sweet, busy, incredibly smart little boy, and will always be my baby.

Love,
Your Momma