So, let's talk about that thing you did. You know. That thing. When I said "I love you" and you said "I raaa oooo" and it rained on my face.
You can also do the following things:
- Say two-word sentences ("Daddy peepee," for the record)
- Walk up and down stairs without using your hands
- Call yourself by your own name ("yeah yeah")
- Put on your own Crocs
- Grow almost all of your set of baby teeth, so help me gawd (waiting on those two last molars)
- Name the owner of household stuff, body parts, seating arrangements
- Uncap a pen
- Give big, awesome hugs
You went to the beach for the first time, and splashed in the Pacific Ocean. You had sushi (salmon and unagi all the way). You had ramen. You had tempura. You do your quarter-Japaneseness proud.
You are also starting to throw amazing temper tantrums. You yell "NO!" with a righteous indignation that would impress the most banal political pundit. Sometimes you fling yourself into the floor. Sometimes you screech into the couch cushions. That have so far ended quickly. At this, there have been understandable reasons for your tantrums, so they feel appropriate. This will likely change.
As I was walking back to my office from a meeting last week, it suddenly occurred to me that the reason I have been enjoying being a parent lately is because I am so excited to see you become your own person, make your own choices, and find your own voice. I love this. I love that you can choose which pants you want to wear, or if you want to go outside (always the answer is yes). I love that I can point to something and ask, "Do you want this?" and you can say yes or no. It's not just the clearer communication, although that has been less frustrating for us all. It's that every day I get a peek at who you are, and how you are thinking and feeling.
Even when you're mad at me (and I will note that when I ask "Do you love me?" I get a pretty hearty "NO"). Kids these days, man.
Well, I love you kiddo, no matter what you think of me. Happy 608th day in this world.