Twenty-One Months

21 months. 1.75 years. My, how time flies.

Oh, Daniel.  It’s been a rough month or two.  We seem back to the days when we called you Senor Fussy-Pants. True to your longtime nature, you are spending a lot of time sort of inexplicably upset or losing it over the tiniest of things. This part of toddlerhood is hitting you and me pretty hard. Your stubborn streak (where could you have gotten that from?) is coming through in a lot of outright defiance.  And once you say “no” when you know you shouldn’t, much as I might try to offer an alternative to escalating the situation, you dig in your heels and get a particularly petulant look on your face.  It’s hard to snap you out of it when you’re in a state like that. The only thing that seems to do it is sleep, which can make for some very long afternoons.  I feel like I need a better approach with you, but I don’t know what it is.

That said, people who meet you still ask me if you ever stop smiling.  Your smile is the best, and it takes up your whole face.  You don’t seem to ever stop talking.  You mimic everything you hear.  You’ve mastered two- and three-word combos, a big favorite being “big garbage truck.”  (My personal favorite is the super-sweet “thank you, Mommy!”) You will often repeat a word or phrase incessantly until one of us acknowledges what you’re saying and repeats it back to you.  You seem to want the validation.  You’ve got your colors down pat, as well as most of your numbers up to 10 and maybe half of the alphabet.  You’ve just gotten into a big book phase and are constantly asking me to read to you, especially Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus.  Or, really, anything that involves a bus.

A few months of gymnastics is rubbing off, and you’re hanging and swinging on anything you can find.  You can climb up and down the rung-ladder on the swingset, but seem to have developed a strange (hopefully temporary) aversion to slides. You’re a little clumsy and seem to manage to fall in spectacular ways, but that doesn’t seem to put a huge damper on your enthusiasm.  You like play-doh and markers and chalk.

You’re getting into a hitting and kicking phase, and the funny-if-it-weren’t-kinda-sad part is that you narrate the entire time. “Hitting Mommy! Kicking Daddy!”  It’s not even always done in anger. It’s weird, and I’m not entirely sure how to deal with it.  But you also typically want anything that your sister has, which results in shrieks of “my turn! my turn!” and attempts to grab the coveted object.  It’s not a great situation.

But even though you can get wound up and frustrating and we can push each other’s buttons, you can also be the sweetest darn thing around and I love all of your drooly kisses.

Rebecca, my dear, you are really quite something.  On the whole, I don’t think this age is hitting you quite as hard. Oh, sure, you can throw a tantrum with the best of ‘em.  But they generally seem to be farther and fewer between, as well as shorter in duration, than your brother’s.  Again, you are true to your earliest days.  You are pretty easygoing and happy most of the time, until a switch flips and the RAGE comes out. It’s quite something to behold.

While you are still somewhat reserved with strangers, your absolute aversion to them has passed. You warmed up quickly to your uncle and Gramps when they visited this week.  You are silly, daring, independent, and have clear ideas of what you want.  Thankfully, you use the word “yeah” at least as often as “no.”  Rebecca, do you want a snack? Yeah! Are you a silly girl? Yeah! Was that a flagrant foul in the Bulls/Celtics game? Yeah! Your expressive language is a bit behind your brother’s. You seem to have fewer total words, and are only just starting the two-word combos.  Much of the time you run around spouting gibberish.  But here’s the thing… you’re clearly too clever for your my own good.  You take it all in and know exactly what’s going on.  I suspect that gibberish you shriek is, in your mind, complete sentences. You have a lot to say. You’re also quite good with colors, letters, and numbers.

You are such an adventurous monkey.  Maybe it’s your small size working in your favor, but you’re very agile.  You’re great at climbing, balancing, and anything else that involves gross motor coordination.  You love to draw, and use play-doh one color at a time (sometimes for only a few seconds before saying “all done!” and requesting demanding the next color).  Your spontaneous hugs and kisses for me, M, Daniel, and various animals and dolls is the cutest darn thing I’ve ever seen.

You’re a spunky little thing, and I maintain we’ll see some real trouble out of you.  But so far, the mischief is mostly just endearing.

The only way we could convince both of you to sit on the chair today was with Gramps and a book.  You’re always on the move.  You play together and chase each other, which is awesome.  You also fight and scream and hit and steal, which is awesome.  For as often as you seem to get under each other’s skin, you also constantly ask for the other if you’re separated for any reason.  It’s very sweet.

I could go on and on about your daily habits and funny things you say and do.  But I’ll stop now and just say happy 21-month birthday.  How did we get so close to two?