Dear Bonzo,

[trope]

Dear Bonzo,

Today you are two.

Last night, I told you the story of the day you were born, and called you my “little baby” for what I swore (again) would be the last time. A few days ago at Gentle Friends, I called the place “baby school” and Izzie corrected me and told me it was “kid school.” She's probably right. It's time to make the switch.

This month you are striding and climbing, literally. I took far too many pictures of you at Ross and David's wedding, and in all the shots you have your arms thrown out purposefully, your body wiggling to reach something, or one foot in the air. In real time, you are a tiny tornado ripping through the house and through Gentle Friends. You still show a lot of respect for the rules, most of the time, but we have to move fast to keep up with you.




Yesterday you told me your first complete knock-knock joke. It went like this:

YOU: “Ding dong!”
ME: “Who's there?”
YOU: “Dirty.”
ME: “Dirty who?”
YOU: “Dirty... digger!” (giggles)

I was charmed, and told you so. Then we told knock-knock jokes to each other, growing ever less coherent, until your Dad told us it was time to go to school.

You and your Dad have such a great relationship; he is gentle and patient with you, loves your jokes, doesn't mind when you get dirty, and can always figure out what you need. You trust him absolutely. With me, you hug and snuggle a little more often; you like to rub your cheek against my neck or my collar when you're feeling sad or lonely. You give the funniest hugs; with me, you'll run over and then back into me, as if you were going to sit down or as if you just touched “home base” in a game of tag. Then I squeeze you and haul you a little closer in.



You talk so fluently now that most people can understand you immediately. As soon as you figured out they knew what you were saying, you started getting a little more shy, but you have full sentences and can tell stories with some prompting. I like your mixed up words best: “hocoloptor” and “fire hynert”. You've also started talking about feelings: “I like that a lot!” and “Don't do that ANY MORE.” It's hard for you to figure out what you're feeling, but you definitely have your opinions and your moods. Your friends at day care have taught you a bunch of “boy” stuff: Star Wars, trains, rocketships, racecars, robots, and the noise “pew pew pew!” They have also taught you to say, “MINE!” and “I had it first!” which makes life at home pretty interesting. As an only child, you get most of what you want, most of the time around here. But there are still things that we can't make happen for you, and that's hard for you to put up with.

We still have a friendship with the garbage truck and the trash collector who drives it through our alley on Tuesdays and Fridays. We have figured out his name is Jim. You will wave to him every time you see him and he always seems happy to see you, though the two of you have never spoken.

People who watch you always remark on your curly hair and how much you look like your dad. You're thinning out and getting to look like such a little boy. You also want to pick out your own clothes and shoes, which you do well—better than I do, some days. You eat well and your cheeks have stayed round; you're in 24 month clothes all the time now. Your favorite foods are still peanut butter, dried fruit, pizza, pasta, french fries, fish sticks. But you're also pretty adventurous and will try all of our foods: curry, salmon, capers, crab cakes, edamame, stuffed grape leaves. You love broccoli and tomatoes. (I am so thankful for that!)

You read like a fiend, and ask for three stories before bed every night. Your favorite books are the ones you know by heart: “I'm Mighty!”, “Go, Dog. Go!” “One Fish Two Fish,” “Truck Stuck,” “Good Night Moon,” “Good Night Chicago”, “Good Night Gorilla,” “Firefighters to the Rescue!” and “Chicka Chicka Boom Boom”. I love how you love books, and I could read to you all day. You say the lines along with me again and again. You don't read any words yet, but you can tell me what's on a stop sign. It's a start.

We sign to each other less than we used to, but you still use signs from time to time and we still sing the signing time songs to each other. You've also discovered classic Sesame Street, some kids' music videos, and Wall-E. You like TV as much as we do these days.

You still sleep in a crib and still wear diapers, but I can see that those things will be changing soon. I get nostalgic about your baby days but frankly I can't wait to see what's next. I love you, my little boy. Welcome to team Two!

Love,
Mama.