Nineteen Months with Alvie Bean
Today you are nineteen months old. The months are just flying by, aren’t they? You look more and more like a big boy every day, and sometimes I just want to squish you to me to keep you from growing up so fast.
After you recovered from your leprosy, we had a great weekend full of puddle-jumping and pumpkin hunting. You love splashing (’cause who doesn’t?) and playing in the rain. You also love your dinosaur rain boots and kicky rain jacket. And I love watching you have so much fun in a miniscule puddle.
You are working hard on figuring out how to actually jump. You crouch down low, get an intense look of concentration on your face, and launch up up up! And your feet don’t quite leave the ground. This confounds you, and you glare at those uncooperative feet. And it makes me laugh every. time.
You love the car, and often request more car trips. “Cah Go!” you command. You also love my keys and are pretty sure that you’re ready for that next big step.
Forgive me if I want you to wait until you can reach the pedals and the steering wheel at the same time.
Your three favorite inside activities are drawing, music, and reading. You aren’t saying your colors yet, but you definitely have preferences (red and orange are the best). You spent some pretty satisfying time at your friend’s house trying out his kick-ass musical instruments. I know what we’re putting on your holiday wish list (hint: very quiet things, like cotton balls).
You also now have favorite books. You currently love counting and alphabet books best of all, although you really enjoy Fox in Socks (which is awesome, as that is one of my favorites, too). However, your number one, all-time favorite, we must read this eleventy times every night book is:
Since I also love this book, it’s a win-win. Plus, I know it by heart now, so I can sit by your bed and recite it to lull you to sleep…
A is for Amy, who fell down the stairs
B is for Basil, devoured by bears
C is for Clara, who wasted away
D is for Desmond, thrown out of a sleigh…
I love this book, I love that you are soothed to sleep with the ABCs of odd deaths met by children, and I love my friend Brian for gifting this to us.
Because I like recording your words for all posterity, I’m going to list the new ones you’ve picked up in the last month (boring, I know, but I love that you’re finally talking):
pee-pee, hello, cah (car), kee (keys), joo (juice), muk (milk), ni-ni (night night), book (more or less), pipplesaw (apple sauce), chiz (cheese), potty, pees (please), tak oo (thank you), amma (grandma), skoo (school), tak dis (take this), dat’s coo (that’s cool) and, best of all, one instance of “I wuv oo.” I died. Thus far, you won’t repeat it, but baby steps.
You did not achieve last month’s goal of four consecutive weeks with no time-lost injuries or illnesses. The clock reset on the 22nd for a fever/bad cold and then again on the 5th of this month due to some kind of horrible gastrointestinal thing.
ETA: Oh my! I almost forgot the important doctor visit info! You had your 18 month appointment on 10/31, and in addition to being diagnosed with a terminal case of adorable (terminal to those around you, that is), you got your very last shots until you go to Kindergarten! Yay! (Next year, the flu shot can be administered without needles, and you’re done with all of your vaccines.) You also got weighed (27.5 lbs, up 2.5 lbs since your 15 month appointment; that puts you at the 70th percentile for weight) and measured (32 inches, up over three inches since you turned one and two inches in the last 3 months; that moves you from the 17th percentile to the 34th percentile for height; nicely done) and head circumferenced (19.5 inches, which makes your head enormous, and honestly, the same size as mine…all those brains, right?). The only badish thing was your low iron (another thing you have in common with mama), so we have to give you SO MANY DROPS now. So many. You are healthy though. And you sure charmed everyone you saw at the doctor’s office. What a trooper!
We (and by we, I mean me) had such a wonderful time with Halloween. I hope you always let me pick your costume, because next year I’m thinking you could be a dalek and I could be a weeping angel. How fun would that be? And then, when you’re 15, you could be the 4th Doctor, and I’ll be Romana (I, obvs…II might feel a wee bit squicky).
This has been a big month for you all around. In addition to being promoted to Time Lord, you also tried to do a header out of your bed and were rewarded with this:
You’ve done great with the big boy bed – for the most part. The first couple of nights were a bit rough, and even though more often than not I have to redeposit you from floor to bed when I hit they hay, you’re doing a great job with your new-found freedom. Yeah, you might get up and play for a few minutes every night, but you do it quietly and then go to sleep, so no complaints here.
In other big boy news, you also used the potty for the first time this week! You asked for the potty, and after we got you stripped down, you sat down and went! It was a nearly microscopic amount of pee, but considering I never realized how excited I could be about someone else’s elimination, I’ll take it. (Further efforts later in the week were less successful. After asking for the potty again yesterday, we got your pj’s mostly off & the diaper was coming off when my phone rang in the adjacent room. You took off, pjs and diaper around your ankles, and when I caught up with you, you proudly pointed to the growing wet patch on the carpet of my bedroom and proclaimed “pee-pee!”. Yes, indeed, that it is.)
You continually delight me. You are funny and polite and love helping everyone. You do melt down when you’re hungry and I mostly don’t laugh at you when that happens. (You really do give new meaning to the phrase ‘hangry.’)
You are so smart and clever, and all-around wonderful. I’m positive that there’s never been a kid as great as you in the history of the world. (I’m also willing to admin that I might be a wee-bit biased in that regard.)
The only thing I’d change would be to capture these moments better. I don’t ever want to forget that sound you make for “kitty,” or the look on your face when you can’t get those darn feet to leave the floor, or that backwards glance when you’ve once again breached the child-safety gate and you want to make sure someone’s paying attention to your mischief.
Gosh, you are growing up so fast.
Maybe just give me a few more moments to hold on to?
I love you, Bean.