Memo to Emmy: 26 Months
I didn't skip the 25 month memo, but I sorted of cheated it here with a video looking back at Year 1 to Year 2.
And now I'm catching up with you, my little funny munchkin. You've begun talking so much in the past month, I definitely know you're mine. Because there have been questions.
Most of what you're saying involves excited repetition, "Mommy Mommy Mommy, wh-wh-wh-what Mommy do?" The little hiccuping stutters are beyond cute. It's like your mouth and vocabulary can't quite keep up with your brain, so you rev and rev and rev before you really get going. And once you do, it's, "I yike green, and I yike yellow, and I yike red, and I yike blue, and I yike pink, and I yike ownge, and pupple too."
Your games at this stage, sadly, involve a lot of the same actions, over and over. Like the one where we make a pirate boat out of pillows on "Mommy and Daddy bed" in "Mommy and Daddy woom." It used to be a pillow fort, then pillow nest, and now it's pillow transportation, from pirate ships to school buses to cars and trucks. You don't mind that the configuration for each is exactly the same.
You're fond of wearing your pink pirate hat and you definitely need your sword. You like to call out, "Arr matey!" while jabbing at the "sleeping dragons" at the foot of the bed. (Romeo and Tofu and Coco.) You used to be scared of waking the dragons, lest you unleash the many "tickle rats" that board the ship and tickle you, but now you demand them. "Tickle waats, tickle waats get Emmy! Uh oh, better go inside!!!"
It's really crazy to hear you come up with your own independent thoughts and phrases now. And your appropriate use of "Holy Cow!" makes us laugh all the time.
You're shaping up as such a thoughtful little girl, always asking, "Grandma happy?" "Daddy happy?" "Mommy happy?" It almost makes me feel bad for guilt tripping you into eating one more bite, to "make Mommy so happy." But you need your protein and I am shameless when bending you to my will. You'll thank me when you're 5'10" and modeling Versace in Italy before starting your first year at Harvard. It was all because of that extra omega-rich fish I guilted you into eating.
You're a twirly dancer and you went through a little Sean Penn stage.
You love to subliminally message us into giving you chocolate raisins and m&m's. That trick works on Asian Grandma but your parents are a little more iron clad. Still, it cracks us up when you're just walking around, playing, and randomly you say, "choc raisins" without making eye contact or acknowledging anyone in particular. You're just throwing it out there, you know, in case anyone wants to toss a couple your way. Very suggestive.
But when you just say out of the blue, "I love you too Mommy," you make my heart so happy. I still can't believe all the many things that happened to bring you into our lives, how many cells had to divide, how many chromosomes had to form correctly, how many times I had to throw up into a plastic Gladware chum bucket, to finally arrive at your perfect little being.
You really complete us Emmy.
Your Corny Mom Who Writes to Preserve Memories
and Your Dad Who Plays With You to Create Them