The older you get, the more aware I become of you, of your little mind and independent spirit. You are transforming before my very eyes from a baby into a boy—a change I find perfectly bittersweet.
At this age, you spend the majority of your days giggling and never hesitate to smile at a stranger. When God created you He put joy in your blood, in your genes, in your heart. Your joy is your gift, Ev…..it’s part of what makes you special. Smiling is like breathing for you—natural, constant, essential to your liveliness. You laugh at everything and everyone, no joke too small and no act too serious. Your positivity is contagious, and the ease in which you laugh will always be my favorite thing about you.
We’re in a good routine right now, you and I. We work together, play together, eat together, rest together. You help me unload the dishwasher just about every morning. I let you take out all the silverware and you carefully dump each piece into the silverware drawer, which I later organize. You throw things away for me, and help put away your toys before naptime. I call you my little helper and offer you high fives when you help me with chores, a payment you thankfully find acceptable for now.
You’re talking more and more each day, sounding out new words and, much to my horror, repeating everything I say. I am constantly amazed at how much you know. Just last week we were getting on the freeway and you said “Target!” as we passed the familiar bullseye. It might have been one of my proudest moments yet.
You still love Elmo, and have adopted Thomas and Curious George into your list of approved heroes. You are super athletic, and can throw a ball clear across the room with aim. You call every ball a basketball, which I don’t even bother to correct anymore. You are obsessed with airplanes and anytime we hear one, you stop in your tracks and point to the sky. I have never noticed how many airplanes fly over our house until you started doing this. You make me see things I wouldn’t otherwise notice, and perhaps that is one of the most magical parts of raising a toddler.
Your blue blanket is still your superman cape, and you depend on it for just about everything—injury healing, naptime, bedtime, TV time, car time, daycare time. I cannot even begin to fathom the amount of germs that have been weaved into every fiber of that thing, but it makes you happy and I’ve given in to the fact that life is better when you have it everywhere. You love to rub it all over your face, all over my face, all over the bathroom floor, whatever. It is what it is. That blanket is the only thing in this house you are truly attached to besides mommy and daddy so I really just pray we never lose it at this point.
Ev, you make me smile every single day. I love the way you make me laugh, the way you cuddle in my lap when we read books, and the way you make me try to understand the world from your sweet and simple perspective. You are the light of my life, and I love love love being your mom.
p.s. If you ever stick your foot in your poopy diaper again, there will be consequences.