Friday, March 9, 2012

Dear Violet

It's hard to believe you're 1 year old already. Such a sneaky birthday really. I know because I've done this before. One moment you're a baby, and the next your scaling playground equipment and saying cranberry. Granted, we found out about you right after Samaya turned 1 and so she immediately got put into the big sister category and left babyhood in the dust. Don't feel guilty- she was VERY relieved to do so. Once you can say 'cranberry' you don't really have much use for babyhood anymore.

So, my sweet girl. Who are you right now? You can be fierce and fiery. You have a temper like NONE other. If Samaya so much as walks in your general direction while you're playing with something, you bellow ominously. If she takes what is yours...dear God. In fact, God is also my witness to a stream of daily tantrums, including but not limited to: diaper changes, putting your coat on, not being read to, getting buckled into anything (except the high chair-you've recently decided food is AWESOME), not being picked up, not being put down, and not wanting to be carried in the ergo.

The thing is, no one believes me. In public, you are an angel. You say 'hi' to perfect strangers and will go with anyone who offers to pick you up and show you around or to read you a book.

You love books. LOVE them. If there is an available lap on the floor, you will back that booty up so fast and park it for as long as the reader is willing. I love this about you, I really do. I will love it more when you can read Brown Bear, Brown Bear to yourself.

You love animals too. You point out every bird on every walk (signing 'bird' and calling 'AH, AH') and stand at our living room window watching the squirrels. You spot dogs before anyone else. Any animal you can't readily identify is a fish. naturally.

And art! I am daily amazed by your sustained interest in putting crayon to paper. Usually, I block off the art table because after you finish your still lifes, you like to climb on the chair, climb on the table, then stand up and call me to witness your mad skills. But I haven't barred your way, you're there creating masterpieces. And multi-colored teeth.

You use a combination of signs (many self-invented), a handful of words, and a whole lot of screaming to get your point across. Today you watched me dump your solid waste into the toilet and you said, 'Bye bye poo poo.' I thought that was pretty genius, though next time let's try to elevate the level of conversation, shall we?

Above all you are sweeter than sweet. Whenever your grandparents come over, your run into their arms. You are head-over-heals for your daddy, whose dance moves you have clearly inherited, and you give great kisses. Especially to your sister. Every time you wake up. It's like a bell goes off in your head: 'Awake; must kiss sister.'

You may have some frustration to work out regarding thinking-your-28-when-really-you're-not , but know this time in your life is fleeting. One day you will be 28, and you'll find yourself burying your face in your own daughter's curls. That's what I do, and I still can't seem to inhale enough of your sweetness.

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