Tomorrow you´ll turn twenty months old. For some reason, twenty months seems so much older, so much BIGGER, than nineteen months.
For one thing, you are repeating everything your father and I say. A few days ago, one of the dogs in the condo tried to sneak outside when we opened the garage. Since it couldn´t make it, your grandpa said “Ven acá, Kiara (Come here, Kiara)” and promptly shooedhad her run back in. You pointed at Kiara and yelped "VEN ACÁ!".
"VEN ACÁ!" is one of your favorite phrases now. Especially when you get to scream it at a dog.
For another thing, you experienced a growth spurt last month that took everyone by surprise. At your 19-month appointment, you were 89 centimeters tall and weighed 14 kilos. Your father and I haven’t really been keeping track of your stats very well because, well, the measurements have seemed more like guesswork than anything else. But this time the nurse measured you standing up and BOOM, there you were, 91 centimeters.
Just for the record, if you add another 9 centimeters you´ll achieve your first meter! 91 centimeters is how tall the average 3-year-old girl is in America and that places you squarely in the GIANT category, a category you share with your grandfather… and pretty much every string bean in his family.
This month you have also begun to rely quite heavily on routine. You want your bowl of rice placed on your table, not on the coffee table. And your spoon should be to the right of the bowl, not in the bowl. And you will only sip your juice out of the tall glass, not the short glass. Sometimes you insist upon routines that I didn’t even realize we’d established, like laying all your furry pets on the floor to cover them with your blanket and sing them a song to help them sleep. But it has to be that "ah, ah, ah" song, not any other one. OH MY WORD NOT ANY OTHER ONE! If we happen to sing another one, the earth might stop spinning.
Other times, like when you are already wearing your blue shoes but you still force your feet in the minnie mouse slippers? And then you shuffle around the house whining because you can’t move properly? But you refuse to let me help you take the minnie mouse slippers off or, HORROR OF HORRORS, put them on over the shoes you already have on?
Times like that I wonder whatever happened to your sense of routine. Because I guarantee that I never, not once, have forced your tiny feet into your minnie mouse slippers once you are already wearing another pair of shoes...
In short: toddlers are cute, weird, unpredictable little parrots.
But you are our cute, weird, unpredictable little parrot and we love you more than sunflowers love sun (and everyone knows that’s an awful lot),
Mommy and Daddy
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