20 months

Having you around is like living with a two year old, only smaller. You want what you want when you want it and you have no qualms about yodeling at top volume when you don’t get it. You have almost learned to whine. If I say no when you ask for something you start repeating, “Pease, pease, pease” in sad little pathetic tones that make me seem cruel and heartless for denying you. And then you descend into screams. It ain’t pretty, but you will get over it soon enough. We hope.

You think hi is a magic word. Pair an exuberant “HIee” with a smile and a wave and people stop and smile and say it back. Neighbors give you cookies. Kids stop to play with you, all because you have mastered the nuances of this one magic word.

And bye-bye is a pretty cool word too. It’s all encompassing in your efforts to get out the door. You point and ask, “BYE-BYE?” Or say it in pathetic tones of longing. It all points to one thing, you want to leave here now, and go somewhere else.

Here is a typical day for you. You sleep snuggled next to mommy until it’s time to wake up. Then you sit up and grin at me before choosing whether or not to nurse a bit or just jump up and go play.

You run to the bed room door and yelling happily until your brother and sister come running in and take you off to play whatever game they are up to. The boy will cut you a pear, or a banana, or mix you some muesli while mommy showers. You almost always decide that I ought to let you shower with me. So the Girl will bring you into the bathroom and take off your jammies. You can almost do this all by yourself, but the shirt is a bit tricky still. Then you sit on my feet in the shower and demand that I wipe the water out of your eyes whenever you get any in them. This is because you now associate things in your eyes with pain, ever since the Girl tried to shampoo your hair herself and used too much and it got in your eyes very badly. They were very sad and red for a long time.

When we get out of the shower you point at the towel rack and demand a “Tow, tow.”

Whenever one of your commands is properly fulfilled you give little self satisfied nod. It’s my favorite thing that you do.

I wrap you up in a towel so that you can hold it around you and you run through the house proudly. Every time it falls off you bring it back crying “tow, tow” until I help you wrap it again.

Eventually, one of your siblings will decide that you need clothes and they will pick out something for you to wear. They fight over this privilege. Then, and they fight over this too, one of them will put a clean diaper on you while you almost always lay still, and then they will get you dressed. You will immediately find shoes and bring them to me. Once your shoes are on you go to the door and reach for the knob while begging, “Outide?”

Then I say, “no, not yet”, and you cry. But you soon forget about that and start playing with toys.

You bring me the bag of wood puzzles and, a bit like a crack dealer, I dole them out one at a time. You bring me an assembled puzzle to trade for a new puzzle. You go on like this for hours. Until you are distracted from the puzzles by the big kids running around, or the doll stroller, or a “bebe”. Then you bring me the doll, and a crumpled up dish towel that you pulled down from the dish rack and I wrap up the baby to sleep, over and over again, every time the blanket falls off.

Then you are hungry, and want your water bottle. As soon as I walk into the kitchen you start shoving the stool over next to me and climb on it to reach for stuff. You beg from the moment I start until the moment you get food. You sit at the table with the big kids. You eat the most enthusiastically. And then it’s time for nap.

You wake up from nap and get in the way while the other kids pick up their toys. Sometimes you are a big help, sometimes you are a distraction and make a bigger mess behind them.

Finally, the toys are picked up, the snacks are consumed and the magical door opens.
You grab shoes and purse and “bebe” and fly out the door on your little red fire truck making for the open road. You are very fast. You push and coast and steer like a pro. If the next door neighbors are home you stop and yell “Hiee” and then “Pease, pease” and they give you always 2 animal crackers. You eat one, and give the other to me. Then you nod in a very satisfied fashion. Perhaps you are pleased that every thing is going according to schedule?
The next few hours are blissful as you run around outside and play with all the kids.

And then I bring you in to make dinner and you yell, and hang on me, and try to climb up and touch everything. And then you eat.

When Daddy comes home you stretch your whole body out towards him and yell “DA!DA!DA!” over and over again. Your day is now complete and you finish it off by distracting your siblings when they should be in the bathroom brushing their teeth, and instigating chase games and giggle sessions.

You push your way jealously onto my lap as I read, knocking off the story book in the process.

Once the big kids are in bed you mess around a bit with mommy and daddy before climbing into my lap and nursing until you fall asleep again and I carry you to bed.

It’s hard work being the family baby, but someone has to do it. And you seem to be holding up under the pressure admirably.