Birch Class

 A big weekend for you, my Succotash. We just had a four day long visit with another mother and toddler, younger than you and less verbal. For the most part it went well, but you are still learning not to shove in the chest when you want more space, or whap over the head if you want his attention. You shared all toys, your stroller, many clothes, and your parents' attention, and overall I would say you did very well, but given that you are 1 3/4 years old, "very well" still means it often was a challenging time. But they have rolled off in one piece, and this morning you ventured, with lunchbox and backpack with changes of clothes and galoshes and a blanket for nap, into your toddler classroom for the very first time.

I was very proud of you. You recognized which door to go to, and greeted your teacher, and walked in straightaway with your eyes on an activity that you wanted to do. I think I was worrying about it, because last night you slept comalike either curled into my armpit or sprawled in the bed like a sea anemone while I lay awake staring at the ceiling until around 1:30 in the morning, worrying about everything and nothing. I hit it all - your grandmother, our move back to the city in September, your aunt, the day you were born and all that happened, the book that's about to come out, our apartment, the value of our apartment, the installation of a temporary wall in our apartment, how you will adjust to our apartment, how you will sleep in our apartment, if it's even worth having a temporary wall if you're just going to sleep with us, potty training, how to join the playroom at Scandinavia house, the book I'm about to try to write, the dealie I have to fix on the boat, how full the bilge is on the boat, and on and on and on into the darkness. It had been awhile since I lay awake like that, tabulating my anxieties. I wasn't aware that I was worried about your starting a new classroom at school, but the relief I felt as you walked inside tells a different story.

You are talking more too - "school," "bear," "this is," "that is," "that truck," "I uv" (I love you), "baboo" (booboo), "waffles," "buh bo" (big board - the diving board at the pool, with which you are obsessed, and which you have jumped off once, with Daddy's help, giving me a heart attack, and which you are practicing for by finding manageable curbs and jumping off them with a look of sublime bravery and delight), "boob," "good Daddy," "Daddy! Daddy!" (shouted down the stairs if L goes down to let out Milo while we are getting dressed). You share your mother's reticence about getting out of bed in the morning. You don't like to be rushed. You want your snuggles and maybe a book and to just take it easy for a bit - the toddler version of wanting to linger over your coffee before starting your day. 

You are also taken to squatting pretty predictably and being aware when your baby bowels are moving, which makes me think potty training for real might be coming up soon. I'm hoping Montessori will do it for us. But time will tell.