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Dear Kaylee, at 29 months

Dear Kaylee,

You are a freakin’ genius.  I know lots of mothers think that about their kids, but I have serious, solid evidence: You can work an iPhone.  No shit.  At least a couple of times every day, you pick it up, turn it on, scroll through screens to find the app you want (an “animal sounds” program), start it up and play with it for a little while.  When you get bored, you turn it off.  This is either a testament to how easy it is to operate an iPhone or a testament to your genius-level intelligence.  I choose to believe the latter.


This month has been pretty good for us as we’ve settled into a regular routine in our new house.  Things have been more or less the same as they were in the old house, except the new one has provided you with better ways of stalling before bedtime.  Mostly, you’ve come to appreciate having bedrooms upstairs.  That way, when I tell you it’s time for bed, you can devise the slowest possible way to get to your room, whether it be climbing the stairs backwards, sideways or attempting to roll yourself uphill.  You seem to think I should consider it endearing, and I probably would if you started going to bed at 7:30 like normal 2-year-olds.  But when it’s 10 p.m. and you’re crawling up the stairs backwards, I do sometimes wish you would hurry up.


I also learned a couple of things this month.  1. Always use the parking brake in our driveway.  2. Even if I’m so shaken that I can hardly breathe, it’s better not to pass that panic on to you.  Both lessons come from something that happened two days ago when I parked in the driveway and got out to open the garage door.  When I turned back to the car, it started rolling backwards down our driveway.  With you still in the car seat.  I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.  It only rolled a couple of feet before I stopped it (or it stopped itself, I’m still not sure), but what if? I was so freaked out by the incident that I couldn’t hide it from you, and ended up explaining that “the car scared Mommy.”  As previously mentioned, you’re not stupid, and you picked up on the fact that the car scared your Mommy a lot.  And so you were afraid of the car for the rest of the day, only feeling comfortable again after repeated assurances that everything was all better now and the car wouldn’t scare us again.

Which brings me to another topic: I crave a minivan.  I never thought this would happen, and if you’re reading this years from now and shaking your head, telling yourself it’ll never happen to you, then just you wait.  Just. You. Wait.  There will come a time, if you choose to have kids and all the gear that comes with them, when you will learn to desire the cargo capacity and stow-and-go seating that only a minivan can provide.  And as your little family-unfriendly sedan begins to deteriorate – including a possible attempt to send your first-born hurtling down the street in a race toward certain death – you’ll start scheming to trade it in.  And wouldn’t it be nice to get a vehicle with sliding doors on the sides so you can park it in the garage without danger of causing a line of door dings on your other car?  Wouldn’t it?  Wouldn’t it?


Ok, back to talking about you.  You’ve really begun to articulate your thoughts in a way you couldn’t before, not only using complete sentences, but using all the words you used to leave out. Now instead of “want milk,” you might say, “I want a glass of milk.”  I can’t say for sure when that transition happened, but it seems like one day you were talking like a baby, and the next you were talking like a kid.  You’re also making progress on the potty-training front, often going most of the day without diapers at home.  Our conversations around the house often revolve around bodily functions nowadays, and when Daddy or I go to the bathroom, we can expect to be grilled about it afterwards (or sometimes during).  “Did you pee?  Did you poop?  No?  Just farted?  Ok.”  I imagine this is amusing to strangers in other stalls in public restrooms.


As the days march ever closer to mid-January, I keep trying to remember that I have to cherish this time with you – the last days with you as my only child.  Admittedly, I do forget, especially when you take really short naps on days that I’m desperate for a long nap myself.  But even in those moments when I get frustrated, please know this: You are my favorite.  You will always be my favorite, even when your baby brother comes along and he becomes my favorite, too.



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    Jackadillo Princess - Jackadillo Princess - Dear Kaylee, at 29 months

Reader Comments (3)

As long as you get a "If this van's a rockin'..." bumper sticker, OK?

October 15, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterKate

At least consider the Mazda5 -- it's kind of a mini-minivan and you can put a spoiler on it -- before you give in to the Dark Side and buy a Grand Caravan. Please?

October 17, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterPam

[...] Everyone bolted from the house, climbed into our respective vehicles (mine was a minivan – score!) and drove off as fast as we could.  I don’t know how we knew this, but that evil spirit was [...]

November 3, 2009 | Unregistered »

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