Dear Kaylee,

It’s been a really busy month, so much so that I’ve barely had time for watching television, much less blathering on about you on the internet.  But that doesn’t mean we haven’t been spending plenty of quality time together.  We’ve played, we’ve jumped, we’ve colored, and we’ve contemplated whether it’s time to get serious about potty training.  We’ve been having a pretty good time.

Shortly after your birthday, you had a checkup during which you weighed in at the second percentile.  So now we’re back to trying to pack calories into your body at every opportunity.  What this means for me is that I must spend my time worrying about your health and your growth and your calorie intake.  What this means for you is that you get to drink chocolate milk and eat ice cream all the time.  I think you got the better deal.  These checkups frustrate me for several reasons, not the least of which is that the doctor is entirely focused on this little pink line on a chart, and not on your incredible activity level and your intelligence.  No, you don’t weigh very much, but you counted to 20 today. Doesn’t that count for something?  Can’t that take a little edge off my worry?

I know I say this every month, but I am continually amazed at how well you have begun to communicate with us.  Tonight I went out to dinner with some friends from high school, and when I came home and asked you what you did while I was gone, you managed to tell me that Macy had hit you in the nose and Daddy put ice on it.  They weren’t complete sentences and I had to translate some of that from Kaylee-speak, but you got your point across.  Then you made Daddy and me sit down on the couch while you served us pizza from your play kitchen.  When Daddy comes home from work each day, you tell him about the most important events of the day, whichever ones really stood out to you.  (Generally, those are trips to the park or having a smoothie at the mall.)  And every single day it strikes us yet again that you are not a baby anymore.

Last week, you left the table before Daddy and I were finished with dinner, and after a few minutes we heard you calling us from your room.  We went in there to find you in your crib, jumping up and down and having a good ol’ time.  You’d climbed up on your changing table and then slid down into your crib, and every now and then you try to climb out of the crib, too.  So we’ve decided it’s time to get you a toddler bed.  You are SO EXCITED about this idea.  I was talking up the big-girl bed to you this morning, and when we visited Gram and Papa today we talked about the big-girl bed some more, to the point that I must have made you think you were getting one immediately.  When we pulled into the garage this afternoon instead of the parking lot at the big-girl-bed store, you started crying and saying, “Big-girl bed?” in the saddest little voice.  Not to worry, little one, we are getting the bed for you tomorrow.  I hope it fulfills your big-girl-bed hopes and dreams, and that it doesn’t freak you out to not be confined anymore.

We’re still trying to explain to you that you’ll have  a little brother or sister in the near-ish future, but you’re not totally getting it.  Your best friend Ella’s baby brother was born a week ago, and I think that’s helping you form a definition of “little brother” in your head.  Maybe as we see Ella and her brother at playgroups and exercise classes over the next few months, you’ll begin to understand what you’re in for.  I’m also hoping you’ll learn to cope with it when Mommy holds (or speaks to, or looks at) another child, because you’re in for some stressful times if you don’t.

I apologize if this letter seems disjointed and weird.  If so, it’s because I was watching “Back to the Future” the whole time I was writing it.  If, 20 years from now, you’re reading this and feeling cheated, you can blame Michael J. Fox.  (Just look him up online if you don’t know who he is.)

Love,
Mommy

Posted to Baybee Kaylee, Dear Kaylee, photos | 4 Comments