Thursday, January 04, 2007
You turned two-and-a-half today. Thirty months old. I've wanted to write you a letter every month on your "birthdate" (an idea I got from another mommy-blogger), but for more reasons than I care to admit, I've never succeeded in accomplishing that goal. Well, it's 2007 and times are a changin' (hopefully).
This past month has been a super-fun one with you. Your new thing is dancing and you do it all the time. Sometime in November we watched Center Stage and ever since then, all you want to do is dance. Prior to seeing the movie, you loved music and would jump up-and-down when listening to Coldplay or Death Cab for Cutie or any number of the other bands your father has in rotation in our stereo. But this movie was a definite turning point. Now, it's all about being a ballerina. After the first viewing, you studied the photos on the back of the DVD case and then proceeded to imitate the poses you saw in the photos. During the second viewing, you spent most of the movie hopping around trying to mimic what they were doing on screen. For the next two weeks, immediately after you woke up (and every hour after that) you would say, "I wanna dance" and would ask us to turn on the music. You would dance around the living room like a ballerina, placing your arms carefully in position, up on your "tippy toes", alternating between a look of intense concentration and a beaming smile. Aside from our parental bias, I think others would agree that you look pretty darn good for a two-year-old...sorry, two-AND-A-HALF-year old. Your father and I had so much fun watching your dance routines that when I saw a pink tutu at our favorite children's clothing store, I knew that's what we would be giving you for Christmas. You also received a pink leotard and tights for Christmas and spent most of Christmas day dancing around the house in the complete get-up. I think you've worn it at least once every day since Christmas and whenever anyone asks you what you got for Christmas, you exclaim with a big grin on your face, "I got a tutu. It's pink."
Other than dancing, you are very into your little brother. You love to hug him and kiss him and very much wish you could pick him up and throw him over your shoulder to burp him and can't quite seem to understand why we won't let you. And although we tell you at least 10 times a day to not lean all your weight on Vance, you haven't quite grasped that concept yet. But honestly, I'd rather have to keep reminding you not to smother him than for you to ignore him and be totally uninterested in him. When you wake up in the morning, or from a nap, one of the first things you say is, "Where's Vance?" You're also very protective of him, and have burst into tears and protested several times this past month when you see someone you don't know saying "hi" to him or holding him. People have reacted quite strangely to this, but we know it's just your way of watching out for your little brother.
When you're not playing with Vance, you can usually be found playing in your room. This is a new development, just in the last week or so. I think it's because you've figured out how to turn on the CD player yourself and can now listen to your "Margot" CD over and over and over. You seem to be really enjoy having some time to yourself up there and I must admit it's been refreshing for me. But today when you were playing up there by yourself, I got a little sad because I realized this is just the beginning of what is sure to be many years of you wanting to differentiate yourself from me. My mind was flashing forward to your teenage years when you'll be listening to different music (that I also can't stand) in your room and wanting nothing to do with me. I know our job as parents is to raise you to become your own person and to pursue your own dreams and I certainly want you to do that, but today I got a small glimpse of how hard that is going to be at times. So for now, I'm going to enjoy the times you ask me to turn the music on so you can dance, and for the times that you turn it on yourself, don't be surprised if I sneak in your room to just watch you play.
I love you,