My sweet baby girl is almost 2. In the past few months, a lot has changed. She’s talking in full sentences and asking for what she wants (usually with “I need” rather than “I want”). Her strong will has developed into an iron one and so we have no shortage of tantrums around here. She counts to ten and sings the ABC’s, among other songs, sometimes belting out a familiar tune to her own words, usually the name of something or someone she likes. On most nights, she can fall asleep on her own, in her own bed. But at some point in the middle of the night, every night, she finds her way into our bed. I’m okay with it.
Whenever I tell her that Grammy is coming over, she is overcome with joy, and she runs to the window, expecting Grammy to appear at that very moment, believing that every person who passes is her beloved Grammy, or “Dammy,” which is how “Grammy” sounds when spoken by Gigi.
This girl loves nothing more than her family. And babies.
The activities that hold her attention span the longest are playing with her big brother, and drawing.
One of our favorite things to do, together as a family, is bundle up and take a walk.
We took her to the snow for the first time in December.
I don’t think she loved it though. She was cold and she couldn’t get to her hands.
She’s very sweet to her Daddy. If he gets out of bed first in the morning, she’ll perk up, either sitting up to say “dada?” or following him into the bathroom. She runs to the window to wave good bye when he leaves for work and greets him at the door with open arms when he returns.
She’s still nursing often, she loves being carried around in the front pack, and she’s not potty trained. She will sit on the potty and wipe herself, but she will also stand next to it and pee on the ground. She likes to wear “big girl panties,” even when she wets them. She prefers to dress herself, and she loves her red boots, which still fit.
She can often be found at the piano, or in the arms of her favorite uncle, Uncle Jimmy.
She is sweet, and she is sassy. She gives hugs and kisses, but only when she feels moved to. Not when she’s asked to. (Unless it’s first thing in the morning, in which case she’s exceptionally affectionate.) She has recently discovered popcorn. We were at a kitchen store last weekend and she tried to leave with a popcorn maker (a WhirlyPop, to be exact) because it had a colorful picture of popcorn on the box. She has finally (mostly) stopped crying when I leave her with a babysitter.
The next year will pass in a flash, like they always do. But today, she’s not quite two. Today, she’s still my nursing baby. I like to believe that somewhere, deep down, she will always be my baby.