Today you turn two! Your daddy and I were thinking about how you came into the world this morning while we gazed at you sleeping by yourself on the bed, lounged out like a teenager. You crawled in with us this morning around 5:30 after sleeping through the night. What a big boy!
This was the year that you turned into a little man. You can climb down the stairs all by yourself. You can jump up in the air with both feet. This was the year when you started telling daddy and me "I love you" and asking for kisses at bedtime. This was the year you started to make us laugh on purpose because you knew we liked it, and that made you feel good. This was the year that you started talking in full sentences, and started to say "Did you see THAT, Mama?!?" at every opportunity. This was the year that I no longer had to stick to you like glue at the playground, and I can watch you run, jump and play from a longer distance. This was the year that you started to like bugs, and I'm very proud that you don't stomp on them. This was the year of our first (and second) scary visit to the ER. This was the year that you started to sing, and your little voice is so beautiful.
When I think about next year, I think of that perfect morning we had last week. Remember? You and I went to the library and looked at a few books, then you held my hand and we walked together to the coffee shop down the street. You stopped and looked for cars at the corner, and then you picked out your own doughnut in the shop and sat with me at a table while you ate it. Then, we walked back to the car and stopped to look at a colony of ants. Suddenly, Sam, you've gone from being an appendage to being my little friend with your own opinions and your own Sam-like way of doing things.
I know things won't always be smooth. In the future, there might be slammed doors, or yelling, or saying or doing things you wish you could take back. But, I will always remember this, Sam - you holding my hand, you snuggled up to me to nurse, you jumping into my arms. I will always be here, and I will always catch you.
The things that make me laugh about Sam seem to be divided into two categories: things that are funny to me and not funny to him (or maybe they are funny to me BECAUSE they're not funny to him and should be), and things that are funny to him and are therefore funny to me because he thinks they're so funny.
We were reading Goodnight Moon today when we ran into an example of the first. On one particular page, the "old bunny" as Sam calls her is missing from her chair, leaving only her knitting behind. Sam was really concerned about this: "Old bunny! Where's Old Bunny?" "Where do you think she went?" I asked. "In the little house," he said, pointing to the little dollhouse in the forefront of the picture. "Why did she go in there?" I asked. "Going potty," he replied matter-of factly. Makes sense - even fictional characters have to go sometimes, and the little house was right there...He also told me during the same reading that the two kittens were staring at the Old Bunny in one picture because they wanted to go to McDonald's.
He also has his little jokes that he thinks are very funny. One of his favorite phrases is "Win the lottery and buy and RV." The short history behind this phrase is that he's been really interested in RVs since our trip last fall, and when he asked if we could buy one, Mark replied that we could if we won the lottery. That made quite an impression.
So, we hear "win the lottery and buy an RV" at least daily, if not more. A few days ago, he was on a roll with this and looked at Mark with a mischevious expression and came up with, "win the lottery and buy a CAR???" (Shrieks of laughter). As in, "you thought I was going to say RV because I always say RV, but I FOOLED you and said CAR instead!!! HAHAHAHA!
I think he's got a ways to go before Last Comic Standing...
Sam has a cold. He woke up yesterday morning with an incredibly runny nose and started sniffing in and out, then exclaimed, "Pig!" with great delight. Apparently the best part about having a stuffy nose is being able to make pig noises. Way to turn lemons into lemonaide, Sam.
A few days ago, we were riding in the car and I had this phone-in advice show on. Suddenly from the back, Sam shouts, "That's normal!" This continued all the way home, and it's still a favorite phrase. I suppose I have to be careful about what I listen to, but it is nice to get reassurance that I'm normal now and then.
I forgot to post this earlier, but Sam has started to sing! It's just about the sweetest thing in the world. His current favorites are the ABC song, Happy Birthday, Skiddama rink-a-dink ("something unintelligible-a-dink-a-dink") and Wheels on the Bus, which he's turned into Wheels on the Car, Wheels on the truck, Wheels on the Van and Wheels on the Bike. He's absolutely not shy about singing right out, even in front of other people. Took me years to do that!
I think I may be crazy, but I'm having second thoughts about something we've done with Sam from birth - disposable diapering. This all started the night before last when I ran up to the Thriftway to get some Ibuprofin for our furiously teething toddler. In the baby aisle I found a starter set for flushable diapers. I recalled earlier that day when I had hauled out our almost weekly load of non-biodegradable waste to the trash, and about how Sam's great-great-great-great-great grandchild will be able to go to a landfill and find his or her great-great-great-great grandfather's poop encased in a plastic liner, and I bought the kit. Great, right? All of the convenience and none of the waste. Fast forward to today, when, after doing research online and figuring out exactly how expensive those little disposable liners are, I found myself with a poopy diaper doing the choreography necessary to actually flush the thing. Rip off both sides, let the filling fall into the toilet, stir with "swizzle stick" (kid you not), flush, wait for the filling to almost go completely down, and drop in the liner. Then hope it doesn't clog. After this little exercise, I started thinking: Would doing cloth diapers really be that much harder? I called my friend Laurel, a cloth diapering mommy, and grilled her, and it turns out that it's really not. I'd been resistant to it when Sam was born because there was so much else going on, and the only way it could possibly be cheaper would be if we washed our own, which at the time seemed unthinkable. Oh, I seriously underestimated the ridiculously high immunity I would develop toward poop, didn't I?
So, after talking to Laurel and doing hours of online research, I think we're going to make the switch. I want to do this with a future baby, so why not start now? In wishful thinking land, maybe Sam will notice he's wet more often and want to use the potty! The worst thing that happens is that I go back to destroying the earth one poop-bomb at a time.
I'll keep everyone posted on this little adventure...