You are getting into the Christmas spirit with great flair and celebration. Yesterday you were napping, and Daddy was working outside, with the room monitor on. He heard a ‘shrrp, shrrp’ like sound, and came in to find you sitting alone at the foot of the tree, slowly peeling off the wrapping paper from one of the gifts from your cousins in Toronto. Daddy explained it wasn’t time yet to open presents, and helped you tape it back up. A lower lip slowly protruded, you didn’t quite understand.
You’re totally and absolutely into all things ‘bebe’ these days. We go to stores or parks or libraries, and you adore the little ones. “Bebe!” you exlaim, a finger pointed in the direction of any and all strollers.
It touches me how compassionate you are. While sitting on the potty you were looking at a book of photos of baby faces, all with different expressions. One baby is crying, and I asked you, “Why do you think she’s upset? Maybe she’s hungry, or maybe she’s lost her baby (read: doll). You pop up off your pink potty, turn to me with a finger raised (read: Be right back!). You scurry down the hall towards your bedroom. A little bare bottom races down the other direction toward the living room. The pitter-patter of Taite feet, and you’re back, baby Emma in your arms, and you extend her toward the baby in the book, patting the baby in the book on the head and nodding yours.
We read Curious George and the Bunny, you like to tell the story as I turn the pages, all the while trying to flip to certain favorite pages. When George looses the bunny, you hold your hand up to your eyebrow, scouting the room for the bunny, as you’ve seen me do. When George is sad, you turn your mouth upside down and wrinkle your brow and make a sad moaning sound. When George finds the bunny you smile and your eyes glisten.
How old are you? “Two”
What’s your name? “Taite”
New words:
“Broke” (You like to remove the candy canes from the tree and put them back on again. I’ll hear “uh-oh” and then “broke” — one by one, as you hold each one a little too tightly in your fist while trying to put it back on the tree.
“Elbow”
