If anything, living you with you is MORE fun than before!
You are such a communicator – and a real crack-up. You delight in singing the lyrics of your dad’s favorite songs, like “Vitamin C” by Can (Krautrock is not so Waldorf, but we pick our battles, right?) and recently you’re very taken by the old Police classic, “Do do do, da da da.” The poems and songs I sing with you at night at and playgroup too, you like to say with me and often you like to say the last word of every line with special gusto and emphasis.
You like to walk the line between naughty and good. The other day in the car: You asked if I had a penis. When I replied, “No”
you laughed and said, “No, you have a BUTT!”
and then laughing harder, “Daddy has a BUTT too!”
and finally, laughing so hard your eyes were closed you managed to chortle, “Daddy has a CROTCH too!” It was like some elaborate 2-year old’s joke that you’d constructed for your own amusement.
And although you certainly have your rough moments, on the whole, I’m delighted by how much you care for your friends. You are generally pretty accommodating about sharing your toys – you like to pass things out and make sure everybody is included. When you talk to younger babies, you make good eye contact and offer them something to hold. You love best though, running with a gang of kids – boys, preferably – through a course on the playground: up the ladder, around the top, down the slide, and always laughing and running, running, and laughing.
You’ve become attached to a baby doll that your friend Anna gave you (plastic head! and not the one I made! sigh.) and I witnessed a touching scene between you and her. You were carrying her around, and then you paused to comfort her. “Baby,” you said, “It’s okay, I’m here. I love you.”
Moments like this make me forgive the kicking, punching, and light-saber swinging that you’ve grown so fond of.
You’re going to be Yoda for Halloween.
I love you Baby.