20 Monthday Post!
This one nearly got away from me! Especially since I've been saying that you are 20 months for a few weeks for some reason when people ask! You are just a very mature baby I suppose. Well this Tuesday you officially turned 20 months, and you have been doing some wild stuff this past month. The craziest of which has been going peepee and poopies in the potty. You asked to go poop in the "basin" twice this last month, completely of your own initiative. I have no intention of "pushing" you to potty train before you are ready, and didn't think that would be for another year at least. But you have shown a lot of interest in going in "el basin" and even put your bumbo chair in the bathroom, and say you need to peepee or poopies and sit in the bumbo. It's pretty funny, and Papa and I will probably end up getting you a real "basin" pretty soon if this interest keeps up. I'm fairly certain though, as soon as little miss hermanita shows up all interest in the basin will be gone. Oh well.
As I write this you are in your room playing with your toys, making up a little play and I can here you saying "hola Pepe, como estas?" "muy bien, gracias" and similar things in your high little "make believe" voice. It's really too much. You are such an easy even tempered child that I can't believe that over in a pile of books by the book shelf is one entitled "your fussy baby". When was that? It seems like a lifetime ago that you were such a teeny little screamer. I've almost forgotten what it was like, almost. Then I could not put you down for an instant without some screaming. Now you can spend really long stretches of time entertaining yourself with your toys, cars, and "dialogs" that you hold with them. It's really wonderful.
You have the best imagination. You are so abstract in your thinking, like you'll show me a bitten off piece of Arthur mac and cheese, and say "looks like a bicycle", and you know what? You're totally right, it does look like a bike. Or you'll wake up and look at the covers that are all crazy and piled up and yell "mountains!" You'll make up words and laugh at jokes and sing songs with both the real words and then made up gibberish and then laugh and say "funny". (It's another one of your english words you've picked up)
I love this more than you can imagine. I think it's so wonderful that you are turning into a child with this great imagination. While it's a little bittersweet that you are not the teeny baby anymore, I couldn't be happier with the sweet, affectionate, talkative little boy you are becoming.
Really the only thing I can find to complain about this month (you knew there'd be something) is the fact that you are becoming a little bit of a picky eater. You wolf down peas, (blech) carrots, and any kind of fruit I put down in front of you, but other than that it's a little tricky. You will not eat any meat or meat product. I've seen you turn you nose up at honest to goodness BACON! (Again, how is this my child?) You also don't like new food, if I try to give you something different than the usual corn, carrots, or mac and cheese (from a box no less- you completely dissed my homemade version. When I tried to assuage my guilt of feeding you the dreaded ubiquitous childhood fare by making a nice bechemel with elbow macaroni, you absolutely refused to even have it near you, but pull out the "bunny" version and it's gone in a flash. BLERG.) Sometimes I have success, abuela's pasta for example, you absolutely refused to eat, and then after a few attempts of sneaking it into your mouth, you realized, this woman is not trying poison me, this is quite tasty! But try that with a bit of pork, a morsel of steak, a shred of chicken, and you will howl like a man condemned.
I blame your father, mostly because I write this blog. Honestly I know I was a very picky eater as a child, I had a list of things I detested, and actually only recently (like 2 or so years) I started eating Indian food, so I know that there is hope. (I still have a list of things that I can't stand, but it's much shorter) I just have to keep trying, and dealing with your tortured face as I try and put a piece of chicken on your plate.
Well, you've now come out of your room and asked to play with me and Pepe and ardilla after about 20 minutes of playing happily by yourself. How can I refuse?
Love,
Mama.
As I write this you are in your room playing with your toys, making up a little play and I can here you saying "hola Pepe, como estas?" "muy bien, gracias" and similar things in your high little "make believe" voice. It's really too much. You are such an easy even tempered child that I can't believe that over in a pile of books by the book shelf is one entitled "your fussy baby". When was that? It seems like a lifetime ago that you were such a teeny little screamer. I've almost forgotten what it was like, almost. Then I could not put you down for an instant without some screaming. Now you can spend really long stretches of time entertaining yourself with your toys, cars, and "dialogs" that you hold with them. It's really wonderful.
You have the best imagination. You are so abstract in your thinking, like you'll show me a bitten off piece of Arthur mac and cheese, and say "looks like a bicycle", and you know what? You're totally right, it does look like a bike. Or you'll wake up and look at the covers that are all crazy and piled up and yell "mountains!" You'll make up words and laugh at jokes and sing songs with both the real words and then made up gibberish and then laugh and say "funny". (It's another one of your english words you've picked up)
I love this more than you can imagine. I think it's so wonderful that you are turning into a child with this great imagination. While it's a little bittersweet that you are not the teeny baby anymore, I couldn't be happier with the sweet, affectionate, talkative little boy you are becoming.
Really the only thing I can find to complain about this month (you knew there'd be something) is the fact that you are becoming a little bit of a picky eater. You wolf down peas, (blech) carrots, and any kind of fruit I put down in front of you, but other than that it's a little tricky. You will not eat any meat or meat product. I've seen you turn you nose up at honest to goodness BACON! (Again, how is this my child?) You also don't like new food, if I try to give you something different than the usual corn, carrots, or mac and cheese (from a box no less- you completely dissed my homemade version. When I tried to assuage my guilt of feeding you the dreaded ubiquitous childhood fare by making a nice bechemel with elbow macaroni, you absolutely refused to even have it near you, but pull out the "bunny" version and it's gone in a flash. BLERG.) Sometimes I have success, abuela's pasta for example, you absolutely refused to eat, and then after a few attempts of sneaking it into your mouth, you realized, this woman is not trying poison me, this is quite tasty! But try that with a bit of pork, a morsel of steak, a shred of chicken, and you will howl like a man condemned.
I blame your father, mostly because I write this blog. Honestly I know I was a very picky eater as a child, I had a list of things I detested, and actually only recently (like 2 or so years) I started eating Indian food, so I know that there is hope. (I still have a list of things that I can't stand, but it's much shorter) I just have to keep trying, and dealing with your tortured face as I try and put a piece of chicken on your plate.
Well, you've now come out of your room and asked to play with me and Pepe and ardilla after about 20 minutes of playing happily by yourself. How can I refuse?
Love,
Mama.
posted by Alice at
1:26 PM
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