You are 21 months old today and steaming along as fast as your little legs can carry you, which most of the time isn't really all that fast. You are enthralled by the world, by every aspect of it, by the rocks and the bugs and the moon and the clouds and the big kids and the babies and most especially by the animals. We went to a little local farm two days ago, and you were so excited that you spent the entire time we were there covering ground at a full-out toddler trot. You loved the sheep and the cows and the goats and the turkeys, but you especially loved the pig. And then there was the peacock. Oh, the peacock. You chased him around his pen for 20 minutes and shared the rocks you had carefully collected from the road and, after hearing the word only once, called him quite clearly "peacock." You called the turkeys "peacock" too, but close enough.
One of your favorite games is to pretend to burp and then to instruct Mama or Dada to pretend to burp (you say "buuuuuuup") and we can all go on like that for quite a while, at your insistence. Well at the farm you discovered that Mama and Dada have been lying to you, cows do now moo and pigs do not oink and sheep do not bleet, they all, according to you, burp. Every animal that made any noise was rewarded by your amazing giggles and your accusation that they had just buuuuuuuped.
You learned to jump this month, and also learned to tell me that you are jumping like a bunny or like a kangaroo or like a cricket or, sometimes, like a duck, but we'll spot you that last one. You learned to identify the letters M and A and learned to put your letter puzzle together. You like to count on your fingers, but only to two. You hold up one finger for one and five fingers for two, leaving you nowhere to go from there.
You discovered fruit this month and eat it like it is going out of style, sometimes three pears a day. You also like grapes, apples, bananas and oranges. You eat vegetarian sausage and bagels and cream cheese and pasta with Parmesan cheese and any piece of junk food you can get your hands on. You eat a lot, constantly some days, and yet you weigh about what you did at nine months old. You just keep getting taller and taller, so tall that you can pull anything you want off the countertops and open every door in the house and give the best leg hugs known to man.
Five times in the past month you have slept straight through the night in your own crib and woken happy and ready to play in the morning, provided you were able to stop first to give Dada and big hug and a kiss. Mama doesn't share in the morning love, but I'm still the only one you want when you are hurt or tired or scared, so I'll spot Dada that one. The last few nights you have been singing yourself to sleep, and I love to sit in the next room after I put you down and listen to you talk and sing and call out for people you think may come to rescue you from your crib. You try Mama for a while, and when you decide I'm not coming back you start calling for Mimi and Nana and Grandpa and Papa. Sometimes you call out for Mia - toddler, save thyself.
You have learned to tell me that you are not tired, how lucky for you that you have never been tired once in your entire life. You refuse to tell me that you are hungry and instead get cranky and whiny until I figure it out and stuff some food in your mouth, which turns you instantly back into my happy and smiling little girl. You like to wear yellow or blue socks only and prefer to wear them with your sandals, no matter the weather. You like to have your hair in pigtails only if you are allowed to watch the process in the mirror. After you have a bath, we have to stop at every mirror between the bathroom and your room so you can kiss the other baby.
We're still waiting for you to decide that talking is the way to go, but in the meantime there isn't anything you don't understand and almost nothing that you can't communicate, one way or another. At dinner the day of our trip to the farm, Dada asked you to tell him what you had shared with the peacock. You started using your feet to bounce your booster seat back and forth. Dada and I kept telling you to stop being silly and answer the question, and then we realized that you were answering the question. You were rocking - you gave the peacock rocks.
Living with you is like watching fireworks - huge, bright, brilliant explosions that light up the whole world, and then a brief pause, a catching of breath while you reload for the next, bigger, brighter, more awesome blast. I am so blessed, so happy, so honored to be able to sit down here on my blanket and watch while you take over the sky.