Dear Little Fish,
You are a baby no more. It’s amazing how you’ve become a full-on mini person in the last few months. Sometimes I feel a little sad that my baby is gone, but mostly I’m just excited to watch you grow.
Your favorite thing to do is dance. If there’s music on, you’re dancing to it, whether it’s in daycare, the middle of a museum or on the hardwood floors of our house. Heck, you don’t even need real music—just me singing a few notes is enough to get the shimmies going.
You’ve recently begun talking up a storm. You can say, “Hi, Mama!” and “Hi, Dada!” Other favorite words of yours: Beaker, ball, shoes, teeth, eye, doggie, hat, hot, cold, snow, truck, car, bus, blueberry, watermelon and book. And those are just a selection—you’re learning new ones every day.
You love to color and call the cats and read books. You like big-people chairs, but hate highchairs. You think it’s fun to pretend to do things like mom—putting on blush, flossing your teeth, rubbing lotion on your face. I’m pretty sure you’re becoming a girly-girl like your Grandma Peggy. After all, one of your most-loved activities is trying on shoes. Your favorite pair? Pink sequin mary-janes with Hello Kitty buttons. I so did not want to buy those for you, but the saleslady brought them out and you became instantly obsessed.
You love kisses and your friends and dogs of all sizes. You are feisty, intense, opinionated, silly and as sweet as they come.
This morning your dad got up with you while I lounged in bed for a few minutes. After giving you a cup of milk, he brought you into the bedroom to see me. You toddled over in your drunk zombie walk, rested your head on my arm and said, “Mama” in this voice filled with such happiness and contentment that it almost made me cry. My spirited little fish, how did I ever get so lucky?