Two Years

Punky Bru you turned two over a month ago and, dear God, you've been acting TWO for a few months now. These months since your brother was born have possibly been the most exasperating of my life, trying so hard to outwit you on such a small amount of sleep. I'm learning, slowly and reluctantly, to let go of my tendency towards structure and I consider it a pretty good day when there has been some sort of bathing, eating, and sleeping and not too much screaming :)

You are speaking pretty fluently in long sentences. A good majority of your sentences begin with a whiny, "I want..." or, "I wanna..." and lately you're throwing in a whole lot of, "No mom! My turn!" You crack me up regularly with the things you come up with, the tone you use and your assortment of facial expressions, especially the squinty-eyed inquisitive face and the brow-furrowed grimace you shoot my way now and then as if to say, "Mom, what the heck were you thinking?" I can't imagine where you picked that one up :)

You're pretty good at counting and can count from one to ten on a good day, but more often you recite, "One, two, five, six, seven, eight!" You know the A,B,C song quite well, but can only identify letters O and B on sight. I've been trying to work with you on shapes and colors too, but you get quite frustrated with both concepts, so most days we don't end up spending too much time on them.

Your motor skills are coming along nicely. You're becoming a much faster waddly little runner and both of your feet come up off the ground when you jump these days. You enjoy kicking balls around in the yard and I think you're really going to like soccer someday. You're not as interested in throwing and we're working on the whole catching thing too, since most of the time your hands come together a moment after the ball has dropped to the ground. You like to draw circles, you complete puzzles with speed, you enjoy peeling stickers off their backing and decorating the house with them, and you love to fold clothes. You're actually better at folding clothes than some adults I know!

You're quite a girly girl and you absolutely love your baby dolls and insist on bringing at least one with you every place we go. You love trying on shoes and picking out your outfit for the day. You've requested that I put hot rollers in your hair, ask for spray after I give you a hairdo, and you like to sneak into my make-up bag and know exactly how to apply each different part.

You're interested in the potty and all other bathroom behaviors and regularly take your pants and diaper off and run around all willy nilly. You like to "go potty" and will sit, wipe, and wash your hands, but you've never actually made a deposit. We haven't formally begun training because you are notoriously awful at reporting dirty diapers, preferring instead to wear them until they hang to your knees and deny their obvious need to be changed. I have intentions of working on some sort of formal, consistent training this winter when we are cloistered in the house most days. Until then, you're content to pretend.

You're great at pretending. You like making "hamburgers" out of old peanut butter and jelly containers I've rinsed and set out on a shelf for you, or having tea parties with the set the Vance's sent for your birthday. You regularly push your stroller or your shopping cart towards the door as you bid us goodbye. When I ask where you're going you choose from your repertoire of destinations, "I'm goin' uh (Target, the mall, the library, the hospital, Nana's house)."

Sofie-Sof you are working so hard on becoming independent and you've been a little ball of frustrated energy much of the time lately. Most days I'm so overwhelmingly relieved when bedtime rolls around and the house, for the most part, regains a sense of peace again. But Daddy and I start giggling over the funny things you've said and done all day almost immediately after you're tucked in tight and in next to no time we're missing the chaos, the sticky urchin grin, and determined defiance. We are, and always will be, completely enamored with you, our wonderful, terrible, two year old girl.