Phew

Hello sweet Succotash. I'm sorry it has been so long since I have updated your baby blog, but I have had my hands full attending to your baby self. No sooner did we get you sort of acclimated to your new school than you were felled by a heinous cold, which means that today we were sort of starting from scratch on the going to school front. You were very brave, though you did your best to persuade me that you were too tired to go to school and needed to take a nap first and also nurse and then probably go to the zoo to see more faffs.

"Faffs" are giraffes, and are one of my favorite Succotashisms. Tied with "toot toot," which is Succotash for train. In the mornings you get up and we read your toot toot, which is a Fisher Price flap book about various cars and trucks and trains and airplanes, which you like to read while on the toilet. 

My other favorite Succotashism is "hop," which still means rabbit. You are very excited that you and I are going to dress as hops for Halloween, and Daddy will be a "ca-ot." We will sneak back to Marblehead to trick or treat with our neighborhood baby friends, which I am looking forward to.

What else has happened? Your second birthday dragged on so long, with so many friends wanting to send gifties or otherwise wanting to mark the passage of time, that sometimes now when someone asks you how old you are, you say "thee." 

You are not thee. You are two. 

Other things: you love Muppets! We caved and showed you "The Muppet Movie" while home sick because we just couldn't cope and you LOVED it, especially the scene when Steve Martin serves Kermit and Piggy "sparkling muscatel - one of the finest wines of Idaho." This cracks you up enormously. You also love the Busby Berkeley style synchronized swimming scene in "The Great Muppet Caper." Now when you wake up in the morning, instead of craving Mr. Rogers you want to go read your toot toot and then watch "Puppets! Puppets!" 

You enjoy painting at school and love cars and love visiting other friends' houses and playing with their toys. Dev and Ravi have a car that you covet and love tooling around their apartment in. Cecily comes over and entertains you while her parents battle through their ugly divorce and we pretend not to take sides. Yesterday we went to Queens and played with Clara, and you most enjoyed a pretend suitcase of hers, which you would wheel behind yourself to the airport in their kitchen to go visit Poppop in Orlando. Then you would wheel it back and say "I'm back!" and be showered with kisses. 

You are officially three feet nearly two inches tall, so still tracking to be a tall drink of water. You have started shrugging your shoulders in a way that makes your dad worry you might have a tic. This is only for the last week or so, so I'm not worried yet. It could just be how you shake things off. We'll see. 

You still refer to yourself largely in the third person, though you have started saying "I." Like "I did it!" and "I back!" I will miss the developmental moment of you placing your hand on your chest with great gravity and saying your name to indicate that you want something or should have something or should do something. You'll say your name while waiting your turn with a toy suitcase so we don't forget you want to have a turn. You'll also say "hold it," which has largely replaced your pointing into the palm of your hand to indicate that you want to touch or handle or have something.

And you refuse to let me cut your hair. Your summer towhead is starting to darken at the roots, a deep auburn now that we are spending less time in the outdoors and the pool. I always wanted auburn hair. I never knew that I wanted to have it on the head of my growing baby son.

My growing two year old boy. I love you so. 

Growth and Change

My sweetest Succotash, you are now 23 months old, and when I ask you how old you will be on your next birthday, you proudly say "Two!" You have gone a couple of days in a row with no toileting accidents, though we do schlep your baby potty with us everywhere. But sometimes you insist on using the grownup one. You are definitely getting it, and I am so proud of you. 

Your grandparents Manamana and Pop Pop (you rechristened Greg on this trip) have been staying for several weeks now, and as I write you are off playing with them. They plie you with chocolate muffins and balloons and I think it's okay for grandparents to spoil you a little. We have made the abrupt turn to autumn that happens in New England, and I am trying not to flip out about our leaving for New York in two weeks and change. 

We lost our Milo dog. I talk about him still, and I've told you what happened and asked if you have any questions. You knew your dad and I were very sad, and you even sort of pretend-cried about it, not because you aren't sad I don't think, but because it was behavior you hadn't really seen from us before and you were trying to figure it out. Pretending is good for that. 

The other day you counted to six. Sometimes you miss "one" and you don't always seem to know that numbers your are saying might correspond to an amount, rather than an order to repeat, but it's still cute and also surprising.

We took you to see polo, and you are now obsessed with horses. Also "hops," which you still call rabbits, so into them that I decided you and I would go as matching hops for Halloween, and your dad is going to go as a giant carrot. 

The thing I admire most about you is your tenacity. When you make up your mind to do something, you get down to it and do it, You are really interested in practicing things (like throwing, or jumping, or climbing), and you do it until you figure it out. I feel like that has been your approach to toilet learning - you studied up, looked at the books, watched other kids, and then made up your mind that you were ready. We had a couple of bumps and crises of faith (mine, not yours), but now you are just.... doing it. You don't even want to wear a diaper for nap anymore, and for the most part you don't need it. 

I am trusting your innate curiosity about places and people to welcome our arrival in the city, and hoping that watching you discover and learn will override my still irrational anxiety. I don't know what I'm so anxious about. But I think your dad is too. He has applied for a job at MIT, just in case, so that if need be we can just shut down the while NYC side of our lives and hunker down in Marblehead where we are safe.

You are a little person. You hate onions and sometimes get too much food in your mouth and spit it out on the floor, which drives me bananas. You have the best smile in the world, open-mouthed with delight, or wrinkled-nosed, and I love the sound of your giggle most of all. You strike me as essentially happy. Because you wake with a big smile on your face, now I do too. What a gift you are, you bundle of love revealed.

And another thing

 Lately when you've been saying "Boob! Boob!" I will prompt you to say "please?" with both the word and the sign, and you started with signing but now you will say "Peez?" and it is pretty much the cutest thing I have ever seen in my entire life.

Update

Oh my gosh, Succotash, yesterday you didn't have a single accident. Holy guacamole. It's only been a week! And that's with both sets of grandparents here, and a hurricane (well, sort of), and also you have a raging sinus infection, poor baby, which is doing no favors for your sleep. 

I could not be more proud of how hard you are working. You are my determined little person. I am so proud and impressed with your ability to make your mind up about something and then drive yourself to do it. 

Right now I'm supposed to be writing a novel while you play at the beach with your dad and Manamana and Pop Pop (you have rechristened Manamapa and he's really taken to it), but I wanted to take time to note your success.

You can also count to three, and sometimes four.

You have also taken to saying, halfway through nursing, "other side," and then switching boobs.

Also "I helpful" when you put your blocks away.

Your pediatrician in Marblehead, who Daddy and I like to joke enjoys starting with the worst case scenario ("here's why it could be nose cancer") before working his way back to "he has a cold," asked you where your other ear was, and you said "Here" and pointed. Then he asked how many ears you had, and you said "two." He was pretty impressed.

"He's talking more," your dad informed him.

"I should say so!" said Dr. Shin. 

Changes

 It's been a rough tossing and turning couple of nights for Succotash, with lots of nursing and waking up saying "Mama!" and "Help!" and last night a couple of "noo noo!" Which make me worry that you have had bad dreams. Though in the morning all seems right with the world. Clearly a lot of language synapses are firing all at once, but then, maybe something else too.

This morning you climbed down from the bed where you were reading books with your dad while I went to the bathroom. You came over to the toilet enclosure and said "Potty. I sit." You started to sit on the floor and added "Poop."

"Would you like to sit on the toilet?" I asked. You nodded.

So we took off your jammies and your wet overnight diaper and put your potty seat on the toilet. Then we got comfortable and read "Where's the Elephant?" and asked dad to bring your favorite lift the flaps Easter book, and we spent a long time lifting flaps and saying "hop!" and "egg!" and "carrot!" 

You peed a little. Grinned, and said "pee!" We agreed this was amazing and then went back to our Easter book.

And then, lo and behold!

"Tinkle tinkle toot!" I said, which is what happens in one of your potty books, and which always made you crack up. Your whole face lit up. I told you I was proud of you, and then you reached back and flushed!

WHOA!

I sent you to school in a diaper, but with some training pants packed just in case. I'm curious how it's going at school today.

My big smart growing boy.

Also, for posterity, in case I didn't write it down yet, I will also note that the other day you were reading The Snowy Day, pointed at a traffic light, and said "Car. Stop."

I have told your Aunt J that in light of these two developments I am preparing your application materials for Stanford. 

Twenty Two Months

Almost 2! And feeling your toddler oats a bit. But last night you finished eating your dinner - with your own spoon - climbed down to look at your book, pointed at a picture of a traffic light, and said "Stop." We told you yes, that's right, and you said "Car. Stop."

Your dad has concluded you are a genius. And I think rightly so. 

I don't know how tall you are, but your uncle Eli remarks on it every time he comes over, and he comes over every week. You are well over three feet, but we won't learn how far over three feet until your 2 year old appointment.

You love "hops," which are bunny rabbits, and you have a couple of stuffed ones and also a ride-on that was sent to you by my old whinnie horse before he had to "move to a pasture." You like to put your feet on the front wheels and feel them roll along your soles. You also love to play car in the breakfast table (just like I did, and apparently just like Grandpa did). Actually you love to play car anywhere. Car! You love cars. 

You love Mr. Rogers still, and now ask to read the same Mr. Rogers book about making friends over and over and over again before you fall asleep. Last night you wanted to put your own pajama pants on, and only needed a little help. I was very proud of you. I'm also delighted that you have gotten good at saying "help" in addition to signing it. Your brain is clearly processing a lot of speech, as the past couple of nights you have actually talked in your sleep - not just "mama" but also "help" and "hop" and "sit."

We have three more weeks at Harborlight, which is staggering to me. We are rushing headlong into the future.

Yesterday we drove into Boston to see some friends in the Public Garden and you were enthralled by the tall buildings, pointing out the window, waving at the people in the street, saying "hi!" "Building!" "Tall!" You were interested in the park - "pool!" you said when you saw the duck pond - and you coveted the silly balloon hats people were selling. You and I shared some soft serve - you had chocolate, I had vanilla, and we went back and forth trading licks. Watching your wonder at a world outside of Marblehead made me feel a bit better about what lies in store when we go back to New York. I am afraid, but I find courage in seeing that you are unafraid of anything. 

My brave baby.

More words!

 "I sit," sometimes announcing that you will perch on this stool or this stair step. 

"Mama sit," patting the kitchen stool next to your tower so that I will sit by you while you have a snack.

"I tired!" Repeated last night in the shower after a long day playing at school, and then at the pool, and then riding in the launch to pick me up at Menage after a Wednesday night sailboat race. I loved seeing you both in the boat coming to get me. You were surprised to find me on a sailboat in the middle of the harbor, but only mildly.

"House"

"Tree"

"Book"

"Ah-er" (otter, for the little stuffed animal that has joined us in the big bed the past several weeks. Sometimes Otter also needs nursing, and you will hold him up to one boob while you are on the other, and it is basically the cutest thing possible.)

"Smooch!"

"Balloon"

"Walk"

"Boat"

"Iss Uth" (Miss Ruth, our neighbor)

"E-i" (Uncle Eli)

"Enny" (Jenny, Eli's girlfriend)

"Bine" (Brian, your godlessfather)

"In-gee" (Ginger, your godlessmother)

"Chas" (Charles!)

"Harp"

"Cracker"

"Goggles" (!)

"Trash"

Signs for "please" and "thank you," largely when prompted. Also putting dirty clothes in the hamper with great excitement. 

Jumping up with two feet together, and finding things to jump off of as practice for the "bi bo" (big board, the diving board at the swimming pool)

Though general term of approval is still "Guck," which we joke means "Good AF"