17 months

My sweet Fiona: You are 16....no, wait...17 months!



You are quite the little firecracker, darling girl. Daring, bold, opinionated, and with a wicked sense of humor. I noticed a few weeks ago that you were lying down on the stairs, making this snorting noise. Were you pretending to snore? Patrick and I have a game (copied from The Wiggles) where we pretend to be alseep, the other yells Wake Up! and a large dramatic wake up is the punch line.

Wake up, Fiona!

You popped up your head and did this funny little thing with your tongue where you wag it about. You made a joke! Then you flopped down and we played the game another million times. In a row.

The climbing skills continue to amaze. Daddy says you can climb up our (quite steep) backyard slide by yourself. You like to crawl up on the back of the couch and fall down on purpose. You like to stand up and stomp in the water table. Thank goodness we have folding chairs or else you'd be on top of the table. We've caught you pushing chairs towards higher surfaces with a look of intent. Daddy does not like it when you try to stand next to his TV. You and your brother keep our lives free of tedium. God must think we'd cause too much trouble with free time, because He's made sure we don't get any. You are a morning kid like your brother, and 6am is sleeping in at our house.

I love watching you catch onto new things. You copy movements when we sing songs. You ask (in your own way) for Gramma to play some new game with you. You can answer questions! For the most part, you are getting it. Do you want milk? Yeah! Do you want a carrot? NO! (No is always very emphatic). Do you want to eat a bug? Yeah! Fiona, let's go change your diaper. NO! Accompanied by running away. We do lots of running away. From diaper changes, new clothes, getting in the car.

But in the end, you want to do what your brother is doing. Does he have a puzzle? You want it. A popsicle? You'll take us to the freezer and point. Yogurt? You grab a bowl. Where ever he is, you also want to be. Then you will hug your brother with the sweetest smile on your face. You are the only one who can wake him from a nap and he's happy to see you. I know you'll have your own struggles as siblings, but Daddy and I are hopeful your relationship will continue to grow and deepen. We love watching you love each other on your own terms.


I realized that you were totally playing me at bedtime a few weeks ago. The routine slowly got longer and longer. Toys, books, nursing, and repeat. Fiona, it's bedtime. NO! Nah-Nah (nursing)! NO! I needed some conviction, for I could see where this might lead. Mommy has now regained control of bedtime. For you (also) wear me out! And I need some rest myself. So good night, sweet Fiona. I'll see you between midnight and three for a snack and a cuddle.

Love you always!
Mommy

Four Years Old

My dearest Patrick: You are four years old!


We can hardly believe it. Long past baby-hood, you aren't remotely a toddler, you are a preschooler. A verbal, active, thoughtful, questioning, learning, crazy, happy preschooler. It's been such a big year for you, with so much growth, and Mommy and Daddy love watching you learn to interact with your environment in more sophisticated ways.

Because that's a word that really defines preschoolers: sophisticated.

But before I continue, my Patrick, I need to apologize. You are often the subject of blog entries, or more recently Facebook posts, and it's not often the most flattering. It can be rather a challenge parenting you, as you have taken it as your mission to keep boredom at bay. Then I focus more on our struggles and less on your achievements and gifts. So this letter is about what Mommy really loves about you. Let the gushing commence!

I am so proud of how hard you've worked at what we once called "The Talking Game." You spend all day talking, singing, yelling, questioning, and it cracks me up to hear myself being echoed in your speech. "It's OK sweet girl" (talking to a fussy Fiona in the car) "Not quite yet." "That's a GREAT IDEA Mommy!" "No Mommy, it's good." (when you are about to do something terribly naughty) "This is the LAST TIME I am going to my room" (after you have done something terribly naughty) and my favorite, "I just really love you Mommy." You can also be a very enthusiastic singer! You'll just bump out full lyrics sitting in the car. While you aren't interested in singing with the choir, give you a microphone and you are on, baby!

The bakery ladies at Fred Meyer's are twirled around your finger. We have used the free cookies as an on-going lesson in manners. The cookie drill: First we say, Hello Miss Insert-Name-Here. Then May I Have A Cookie Please? (this is where they offer him two). Finally, the Thank You and Good Bye! In the beginning you were prodded at every step. Now you confidently go through your spiel and even request one for your sister. Over the past year you have received lots of compliments on your manners and overall sweet nature. Can you blame your Mommy for have a glow of pride after Miss Penny at the bakery said, "Your Patrick is one of our favorite kids!"

You have such a big heart and express your love for everybody openly. Everybody gets big hugs, including the dogs and Woof Woof your bedtime lovely. You love your friends, your teachers, Gramma and Mimi Cindy, Nana and Papa, and all your cousins. And you really love your sister. You and Fiona will play, giggle, wrestle (yeesh), and chase each other around until one of you cries or gets really irritated. The joy of siblings. I love all the hugs and snuggles you share. And even though I sometimes just want to get on Facebook, I love that you just want to hang out with us.

Buddy, if I could harness your energy we could solve the energy crisis once and for all. Every play is physical play! And it's loud! Whether you are drumming or building trains, it's a full body investment. Your enthusiasm is infections and I work hard to keep up.


Finally, a funny story about the powers of observation from a four year old: I was nursing Fiona on the couch and you were crawling all over us. Fiona was also performing Nursing Acrobatics, where she contorts her body upside down while continuing to breastfeed. She popped off and gave me a squeeze. Milk sprayed over the two of you. Hysterics. Do it again! And what the heck, I thought. I squirted you both again. Then, the questions:
What is that?
It's the Mommy milk.
It comes out of your nipple.
Yes, it does.
Are there holes?
Yes, the milk comes out of little holes so babies can eat.
Do I have holes? (Now you are observing your nipples)
No, boys don't have holes, only girls so they can feed babies Mommy Milk. But your Uncle Dave has holes in his nipples, ask him to show you! (Perhaps I left that last part out)
Daddy doesn't make milk.
That's right, only Mommy makes milk.

Pause

Daddy makes coffee.

I love you always, my sweet boy. You are my blessing and my treasure.
Mommy