Toddler
I recently received one of those generic emails updating me on the progress of my child; usually they're filled with milestones and suggestions for better parenting that I ignore. This one boasted something new in the subject header: "Your Toddler."
Nora has been walking for months and months, so we have already been calling her a toddler, but I noticed that her personality has shifted and she's acting more like a stereotypical toddler, now. She's more brazen and funny. Bullheaded and tantrum-y. Sweet, but in that "I'm mysteriously sticky and I want rub your face gently" kind of way.
Our routine is pretty much the same, but now we spend a few extra minutes getting ready in the morning. She sits on the bathroom counter and I clumsily pull her cowlick bits in to a side pony tail that only flatters small children. While I'm fumbling with superfine baby hair in that out-of-my-element way, Nora bangs bottles on the mirror and laughs at the sound. She never seems to see me flinching behind her in the reflection. I love these mornings.
We spend more time going up and down the stairs. Her feet stomp and press their way through the house and I pretend she's leaving footprints on the spirit of our home. Our rooms will always echo, long after she's gone away to college, marriage, touring the world....
Nora is curious. She is constantly pointing and asking, through hand gestures, grunting and with one of the only two words she uses regularly (that), what things are around the house. Her smile when I answer is the best reward, even if I just answered that question fifteen seconds ago, my little goldfish brain.
We are like Appalachian stereotypes and this kid walks around barefoot all of the time. She has super weird feet and we can't just put any old shoe on her, but we don't have the money for the fancy stuff, yet. Anyway, my barefoot kid takes these walks around our yard, pointing and grunting; smiling when I've figured out what she wants me to name. And I want to wrap those moments up inside my heart forever.
I have a toddler.
Nora has been walking for months and months, so we have already been calling her a toddler, but I noticed that her personality has shifted and she's acting more like a stereotypical toddler, now. She's more brazen and funny. Bullheaded and tantrum-y. Sweet, but in that "I'm mysteriously sticky and I want rub your face gently" kind of way.
Our routine is pretty much the same, but now we spend a few extra minutes getting ready in the morning. She sits on the bathroom counter and I clumsily pull her cowlick bits in to a side pony tail that only flatters small children. While I'm fumbling with superfine baby hair in that out-of-my-element way, Nora bangs bottles on the mirror and laughs at the sound. She never seems to see me flinching behind her in the reflection. I love these mornings.
We spend more time going up and down the stairs. Her feet stomp and press their way through the house and I pretend she's leaving footprints on the spirit of our home. Our rooms will always echo, long after she's gone away to college, marriage, touring the world....
Nora is curious. She is constantly pointing and asking, through hand gestures, grunting and with one of the only two words she uses regularly (that), what things are around the house. Her smile when I answer is the best reward, even if I just answered that question fifteen seconds ago, my little goldfish brain.
We are like Appalachian stereotypes and this kid walks around barefoot all of the time. She has super weird feet and we can't just put any old shoe on her, but we don't have the money for the fancy stuff, yet. Anyway, my barefoot kid takes these walks around our yard, pointing and grunting; smiling when I've figured out what she wants me to name. And I want to wrap those moments up inside my heart forever.
I have a toddler.
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