Thirty-Two Months

Dear Patrick,

I almost didn't write you a letter today. I figured in the aftermath of vacation, nobody would miss it. Besides, you might just be getting old enough that you don't necessarily need a letter every month. Oh, and it's tough writing something without lots of cute pictures to show off too, and I've been bad about getting pictures since we got home from vacation.

But then years from now when I'm finally getting around to compiling all these letters to file away for you to read when you'll appreciate them, I'll notice that your 32nd month is missing. I'll drive myself crazy looking for it, afraid that I mislabeled it or accidentally deleted it. I'll wonder why I didn't ever write something in the first place.

So to keep from driving myself crazy, I'm writing something anyway.

The biggest and funniest things that happened this last months have already been recorded in the last few posts about our vacation. Without a doubt, that was a blast. I suspect you had a blast as well, as you are still talking about your grandparents.

I realized this morning, though, that I'd forgotten a couple of great stories from our vacation since I didn't have pictures to go along with them. Together they pretty much sum up your personality right now.

While we were at Nana and Grandpa's house, Grandpa got some new speakers (or receiver or something) for the sound system in their living room. He and Uncle Steve were trying them out with some of Uncle Steve's eclectic music. They found a particularly rockin' song, one that was probably a bit inappropriate to play around you (but you would never know), and you started getting down to it. Lately you've been dancing a lot to all sorts of music anyway, but this was much more energetic than normal. One by one, all of us adults laughed at your dancing and then joined in the fun.

It took the utter lack of self-restraint of a two-year-old to get all of us uptight adults to dance as though nobody was watching, as though we were children ourselves. It was a good lesson for all of us.

Of course, as soon as we were all dancing like crazy people, we realized that somebody was at the front door--the etched glass door that looked right into the living room where we were dancing the toddler dance. Naturally we scattered immediately, but those few moments when you got to teach us how to let loose were worth the resulting embarrassment.

A few nights later, we got to experience our first time in a hotel room with a toddler you and the first time ever with Nathan. Daddy and I were nervous about how exactly we would all get to sleep, especially since you and Nathan are used to falling asleep in a dark room many hours earlier than Daddy and I do. Either we would keep you up late, or we would have to go to bed at 8 with you guys. Without going into details on how that worked out--since that's not the point--I'll just say that it did. We all got a good night's sleep both nights we were in the hotel.

The part Daddy and I loved, though, was listening to you put yourself to sleep. You did what we suspect you do every night after we leave you and Nathan in the room for the night. You started talking to your brother. "Good night, Gaga. Sleep tight. Night night. See you in a little while, Gaga. I love you." And on and on and on. The first night it went on for about half an hour; the second night it was more like two hours.

Nathan fell asleep about five minutes into the talking both nights. Hearing your voice comforted him enough that he fell right to sleep.

That's the kind of relationship you have with your brother these days. You're not without your sibling rivalry for sure. You've been known to kick him or push him when he's getting attention that you want, or sometimes for no reason at all. But minutes later you'll walk up to him and hand him a toy, telling him to "pway, Gaga." You're eager to put him down for a nap and then get him up from a nap and help change his diaper. You want to help feed him and always make sure I'm giving him enough to eat. "Bi, Gaga?"

In return for all your care for him, he loves you like crazy and looks up to you. Everything you do is either awesome or totally hilarious.

Most of the time, I tend to agree. Each month you turn into more and more of a little person with a charming, magnetic personality. If you continue along this route, you'll be completely irresistible by the time you're ten. Already you're someone I can be proud of, and I suspect that pride will only swell as you continue to mature into the awesome kid you're meant to be.

Mommy (or Jigglia, as you called me tonight) loves you, my sweet little man.