twenty months


I was thinking the other day that it seems to me you have changed more in the past month than any other month before. Which I know isn’t true. It just feels that way every time. I also think every time, including now, this has to be you at your most fun.

You learned very quickly that when something is hot, you blow on it. Which is basically the only thing I have ever taught you myself. I guess if I can only teach one thing, that’s not a bad one. The lesson was out of necessity as more than not, your dinner consists of me just getting home from work and trying to find something in the refrigerator or freezer that is edible, not revolting to you and ideally consists of more than one food group. This rush also means we use the microwave nightly. Thus, the hot. I put whatever on the table and say HOT, HOT, HOT, HOT. And you, after a few times burning yourself, now get a very serious and dramatic expression and begin to blow on the food. But it’s how a 20 month old blows: with sound effect and a little spittle. And no actual cold air. It’s my favorite thing. Aren’t they all.

You really love Elmo. LOVE. Elmo. In a way that makes ME love Elmo. I think I get teary-eyed when Elmo talks to you. And he does talk to you. Because for Christmakah we bought you Talking Elmo and although in December animatronic Elmo was a little scary and best kept at a distance, you two are total buds now. You carry him around, try to get him to talk and when he begins one of his incessant chat sessions, you shove pieces of pineapple in his mouth. Each time it opens. Quickly. And I think that it is so kind and nurturing of you, Jonah. And I have noticed this past month that you have such a tender, sweet and kind side. You wave to everyone, as soon as you sense they are coming and going. You blow kisses and give kisses unprompted, you embrace your little friends and you carry around your favorite stuffed animals and even a doll that has found its way here and snuggle and kiss them.

It’s funny how you will just discover something in an instant, and then that’s it: discovered. I know your whole life will go that way. I just like when I’m lucky enough to be around when it happens. I was giving you a bath one night, as I do, and I filled the bath tub with bubble bath, which we were sort of trying out. And it made millions of teeny tiny bubbles. And I put a scoop of them, as light as air, on your nose. And then your cheeks. And your belly. And each arm. And you were mesmerized. And I was too. Because really, bubbles! The way they just stay like that. It is pretty cool.

You try and repeat everything we say, you want to say words so badly. You say Ta Ta when you say goodbye and you do the truly best monkey, dog and lion sounds. Rawr. That’s your lion. And then Daddy taught you how to do a dinosaur. And it’s a little bit different than lion. Cause, you know, they’re different. It’s more like arrrrrrrrrrr. You sign all the time when you want things. You love closing doors, especially if I’m in the room and you’re closing the door on me. You have more teeth and they seem more symmetrical and they’re so cute and I grumble to myself because we have to better battle through brushing every night. Sometimes you’re into it. Sometimes I get bitten. For some reason you like to whisper the words “Dada” and “Hi”. You like to imitate us so you help with the dishwasher and walk around with the hand vacuum and have started throwing things away for me. You like throwing things away so much that whole containers of new Q-tips and new rolls of toiler paper have found their way into the trash. I told Daddy that one of the first things I am going to teach you, since you’re on a cleaning kick, is laundry. I think we’re close, since you love unfolding all the laundry and putting various articles of clothing perched atop your head. You make us laugh over and over again every day. We have jumping parties on our bed. You see things that make you say Whoa or Wow and your entire face and eyeballs in your socket say Whoa and Wow too. It is stunning to witness and to be wowed vicariously.

Two weeks ago you ended nursery and started a nanny share with Melissa as your nanny/childminder, and Nina as the other toddler friend to share with. I thought the transition would be harder for me – after all, I felt very grateful and already nostalgic towards nursery. But it turns out, as I should have known all along, Melissa was the reason we loved it there. And now you get her almost all to yourself. It means less commuting for us, but more house cleaning (sigh). Jonah, you now can barely wait to start the day with them, and when I walk in the door at night, I am lucky to get a passing wave. You used to run to me at nursery, all tired and spent and hungry and thirsty and spent and spent. The way you love Melissa and she loves you has been a blessing for us. To know that you will connect with other people, the way we already know you do, and to see the way people will give that love back to you, is a beautiful thing for me to see. Plus, you all have daily dance parties and I have seen Nina’s moves, and your rhythm. I am not saying Justin Bieber, but you never know.

Last Saturday morning Daddy and I were sleepy, maybe even hung over (as much as I can be these days) and so you did such a nice thing and slept late. And then when you woke up, we brought you straight into our bed. We coaxed you into an in-between snuggle with stuffed animals and a sippy cup with juice and promptly both fell back half-asleep, hoping you wouldn’t notice we were keeping you captive into the late morning. You didn’t protest and although you didn’t sleep, you chattered quietly and didn’t squirm too much. Time passed and then all of the sudden, in my half-sleep dozing, and simultaneous to Daddy’s, we both said at the same time to each other, “wait, did you just hear that?” You were singing. A real melody and tune. A real song. Not in English words but in your own words. And you were singing it quietly and sweetly and for no other reason on a quiet, lazy, sweet morning then it must have popped into your head. And we both sprung straight up. We had no idea you knew songs. Or how to sing. And son, you just serenaded us right there and then and it was beautiful. It was breathtakingly beautiful. I like to think we’ll remember the tune forever.

I love you, love you, love you, love you and then I love you infinity more.


You’re a:

Sous chef

Big brother

Nap rejecter

Elmo believer

Flower finder

Valentine giver


Fancy dress friend sharer

Bubbles Whoa and Wow-er



Filed under jonah

6 responses to “twenty months

  1. ellen

    Thanks for sharing. A perfect way to start Valentine’s Day

  2. Ditto. My best Valentine’s Day gift.

  3. erica

    Seriously, every month I get teary eyed reading your letters to Jonah. I really love them.

  4. sonjey

    I can’t wait to see for myself this adorable package waiting for me in London!

  5. rebecca

    What Erica said. Can’t wait for next month’s. Love.

  6. toshalot

    Aww, I love that he was lightly singing to you two as you dozed. And I love the title, “Nap rejector”.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s