Saturday, January 9, 2016

2.5 (that's 2 years and 5 months...not to be confused with 2 and a half years)

To Greta Maeve Essig...

You are very interested in names and relationships. I am your parent. You are my child. Estella is your sister. "Jonafan" is your dada. You've called me "Mama Essig" on more than one occasion

When you woke up one morning, you crawled into bed with Estella and snuggled with her and said, "when Stell grows up, we will be best fwends!"

If we ask you a question, you often respond with a yes or no and then say, "I had to think about it a little while."

You have been so into imaginative play for I don't know how long. When I nurse your sister, oftentimes, I will look over at you and you are pretending to talk for baby or one of your little people. Today, for example, you put all the people from your camper van into the little house your cousins made for you and sang them your favorite song, "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" and whispered, "Go to sleep. Go to sleep little childrens" (long pause) "o-tay. It's time to wake up. You want to watch sump-thing? That sounds good."

All you wanted for Christmas this year was cookies. And luckily, Santa obliged.

You have been doing exactly the opposite of what I ask of you. It's pretty frustrating. Also, you've been throwing random tantrums lately and when I ask you what's wrong, you are quick to regain your composure, and reply with, "Nofing."

Oh, my Greta, I love you so much. I'm amazed by you everyday. I keep looking at old photos of you when you were Estella's age...which wasn't that long ago...and my heart just aches...but at once soars. It's such a complicated thing...being a mother. I love to watch you grow and explore and learn new things, yet, I don't...because I just want you to stay little. I called you my baby the other day and you got so upset, saying, "I not a baby! I Teta!" and in that moment, I imagined you as a teenager. And that just made me sad. You made me a mama and you will forever be my baby. And don't you forget it.

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