Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Someone Just Got A Technical

Dear Hazel,
I told your Daddy last night that I needed to get to work on your 27 month update.

And he looked at me as though I'd lost whatever remaining marbles I still had after giving birth twice in 16 months and politely commented that maybe we were making this too special.  In that special way of his.

"27 months?  Really, babe??"

So, fine... we won't call it your 27-Month Update.  Because, yes... I get it.  LAME.  But there's been a lot going on with you lately and I think you should know about it.

For starters... Holy crap, Batman! Does this kid ever shut up??? (Yes, I know we don't say "shut up" around here, but since you can't quite read yet, I feel like I still have some freedom with my words.)  You are SUCH a talker.  And you're getting so good at putting words together to actually tell us what you want.  Usually, that phrase is something like:  "I want applecakes, too."  Which comes out sounding like:  "Eyyyye ont appecakessss, tuuuuu."  But my favorite is when you add the "huh?" or "okay?" after such statements.  So we end up hearing things like:  "Eyyye ont appecakesss, tuuuu, huh?"  Even better, you say it over and over until we acknowledge that yes, we heard you.  And yes... good job on being polite.  And asking a question with a statement.  And blowing up the rules of the English language.  Dude... as long as you're not whining, I'M COOL WITH IT.

Secondly, I'm not sure how we're going to get your little sister to start walking if you insist on crawling around with her on the floor everywhere.  The two of you are constantly racing up and down the hallway on your hands and knees laughing it up.  That is, until sissy is able to get a hold of your hair and pull... then all bets are off and Mommy is consoling you.  I'm sure you don't understand why you get in trouble so much when Millie's also misbehaving.  You don't quite get that Millie's a bit too young for timeouts.  And you... well, you're the Timeout Queen these days.  I used to feel like a bad Mommy for putting in you in timeout for throwing a fit, but honestly... having you scream in your room is SO MUCH MORE PREFERABLE  than you screaming in the middle of the kitchen.  And it struck me the other day that this is totally what you were like as a baby.  You just needed to scream.  It didn't matter where you were or if we were there to listen to it.  And once you exorcise those demons, you seem to be just fine.  The other day, though, I had to put you in a timeout in the kitchen because you had taken a berry from your plate when you were specifically told that if you were going to have a berry, you needed to sit in your chair and eat dinner.  See.... you've got this thing with sitting at a table and eating.  In that you don't want to actually sit and eat.  You'd rather run around while shoving food in your mouth.  And that means that when we are sitting down to eat, you end up turning into a contortionist in your chair. Feet on the table, or legs behind your ear... you are all over the place.  You usually end up sitting sideways on your little chair... and then get really mad freak out when some of the food from your fork has dropped onto your leg... because, did I also forget to mention that you insist on being 2 feet away from the table whilst eating?  Yep.  Horror of horrors when a piece of scrambled egg falls on your leg.  END OF DAYS.  Lots of end of days these days.  From food alone.  

So, dinner times have been fun lately.  But, yes... you were naughty and stole a berry from your dinner plate and had to go into timeout.  But, and this was amazing to me, you knew it was wrong and didn't seem to be surprised you ended up in a timeout.  And you were sufficiently somber about it.  This... this I call PROGRESS.

Also new the last few months?  Shyness.  You... my little "Most Likely To Be Kidnapped Cuz She's So Darn Friendly".... now all of the sudden you see new people, or even people that you know but haven't seen for a while and you cling to my leg and hide your face.  Of course, this only lasts for a little bit before The Real Hazel shows up and it's go-time.

Your meltdowns have continued... as is the rite of passage for most 2-year-olds.  Our response to it has improved dramatically, though.  Which means, you'll likely see your 3rd birthday.  And if we can survive the meltdown of all meltdowns that occurred last week at The Treehouse Museum, I'd say your Daddy and I can pretty much do anything.

You still don't let Mommy do much with your hair.  Which, quite frankly, is kind of okay with me.  Because Mommy still has to deal with doing HER hair.  Add your hair into the mix and the morning is shot.  I still can't believe we rolled two girls... two girls who will depend on me to help with their hair for a good portion of the time they live with me.  WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?  But your hair... man, you've got some curls.  And I kind of think that helps me out because with the curls, it's at least semi-styled by default.

Poor Millie with her straight hair.  So. Screwed.

We love you so much, Hazel. And even though you test our patience and our wills to live at times, the good far outweighs the bad and I cannot imagine our lives without you.


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