Thursday, October 15, 2015

Happy Birthday, Col!

Darling Col. We've come a long way, baby.

The face of croup

Last week we were home for a day together while you recovered from croup. I spent the night on the floor listening to you bark and wheeze and holding your hand. In the morning you were still in poor form, but after a few hours, you bounced right back to your sunshiny self. It was a treat to get some one-on-one time with you--now that DaDa is taking you to school, I miss our commute together but I'm glad you get that time with him.

You mimic everything we do. Scratch our heads? You scratch yours. Clear our throats? You clear yours. Sit on the toilet? You sit on yours (and sometimes even go!). Putting socks on, sweeping the floor, picking up toys, doing sit-ups, washing hands--all these are things you must do immediately when you see another person doing them.

You are spouting off all kinds of stuff that surprises me--putting together word combos ("No car, Mama, toast please," "Uh-oh, sock," "My turn, Brother"), counting up from one through ten while stacking blocks, remembering the titles of your favorite books and asking for them at bedtime.

At daycare, you get along with everyone. Though you very occasionally throw tantrums and toys, you are easily distracted and always up for reading a book, playing with Duplo, building a block tower, or painting. On the back of your recent move to the next class up, your new teachers seem enamored of you, although maybe they just act that way for all the kids.

You are all in for anything to do with water. You're a moth to a flame with the water tray at school. When I start the water running and say it's bathtime, you charge up the stairs chanting, "bathbathbathbathbath...."After going to the bathroom while watching you last week, I came downstairs to find you, a guilty thing surprised, in the half-bath washing your hands and the entire floor.

You love hanging out with your family, and particularly adore your big brother . . . and love to tease him. He is at a stage where he painstakingly sets up toys in a tableau of perfection and doesn't want anyone to touch them in a way that doesn't match his imagination. You have other ideas. A signature move is darting in, grabbing a toy, and just sitting there clutching it and looking at him out of the corner of your eye waiting for him to grab it.

"How do I put this, Big Brother? IT'S MY TIME NOW"

Happy birthday, sweet boy! You are an absolute delight and we are beyond grateful you're part of our family.