Diddle Diddle Dumpling

Dear Jack,

Having chosen a blog address like "one shoe off one shoe on" with that old nursery rhyme in mind, I keep waiting for an opportunity to take another picture of you asleep with only one shoe.

I have finally realized that it isn't going to happen, at least not any time soon.

You love shoes.

Let me say that again.

You LOVE shoes.

You will not go anywhere inside or out without them. "Shoes!" "Shoes!" you repeat with increased frenzy when getting dressed on the changing table in your bare feet.

You bring the rest of us, especially your shoe-averse mama, pairs of shoes to put on during the day while we are hanging out at home.

You prefer footed pajamas, accepting the "feet" part as shoes and when put in other pajamas, ask for house shoes. Then you keep on the houseshoes while sleeping, which boggles my mind.

You have actually asked for shoes in the bath, and although I understand that either crocs or actual watershoes would work, I feel the need to draw the line somewhere.

So, no half-shoeless pictures for you.

Instead, I would like to showcase your ingenuity.

After falling out of bed two or three times the first night you slept in your new bed, you decided enough was enough.

This will solve THAT problem.

Good for you, smart boy. That's my son, John.

Love,
Mom

Are You Sleeping?

Dear Jack,

You were sick again this weekend, which meant we spent a lot of time at home. Your daddy gets bored when he is home too much, so he turns to household projects.

Transitioning your bed from a crib to a toddler bed was just one of many projects he did this weekend, but it was the one most meaningful to you.

He showed you some of his tools, which you thought were neat, but mostly you enjoyed the ability to get yourself in and out of your own bed.

That first night, you only played in the bed since you were sick enough to sleep with your mama, but tonight, as I am typing this, you are fast asleep in your very own bed, using Beandip Bear as a pillow.

Is there anything sweeter than a sleeping Jack?

Not to this mama.

Love,
Mom

Phone Jack

Dear Jack,

Your grandma's phone has been ringing a lot lately. She keeps getting these two minute phone calls where I ask her if she has a minute and she says, "of course."

And then you get on the phone.

You immediately press the big button on the phone because you see me press a button before I speak on the phone.

Then you walk all around the house with the phone held mostly to your mouth and only sometimes at your ear.

You jabber away as your grandma keeps up the conversation until you are done talking and then you say "bye!" and press another random series of buttons.

It is so adorable and since your grandma lives far away and your sister isn't much for phones just yet, I know that she loves that you call her two or three times a week.

Love,
Mom

Where Do You Stand?

Dear Jack,

When your sister was somewhat younger than you are now, I remember thinking that it was easier to be a girl. What I meant by that was that girls can do girly things and it's completely expected, but they can do boyish things and that's okay, too.

It's harder with boys. Your dad and I couldn't care less that you love to play dress up and enjoy your sister's princess clothes as much as your own fireman outfit (or that sometimes you pair the fireman jacket with a nice floppy sun bonnet). We understand that first and foremost, gender and gender roles are absolutely meaningless to you and secondly, you are emulating your favorite little role model who just happens to be your sister. And she's a girl.

I have tried not to put too much of these random moments on your blog because I don't ever want my little letters to you to be a source of embarrassment. I also am very wary of crossing a line between allowing you to explore the world in your own unique way and encouraging you to be weird and different.

But right now, you are exploring, and it seems a shame not to document it.

So the story of the day is this: you see your sister getting her hair done all the time and you never get to have pony tails. Ever. Lately, you have been bringing me pony tail holders daily. Your daddy even tried to give you a pony, but found your hair too short for his big hands to wrap up. So this weekend, I had the time and you had the inclination. I started with a top knot like your sister had when she was your age, but you wanted lots of ponies.



So that's what we did.

I know a lot of mamas wouldn't have answered your request this way, and that's okay. I know that you enjoyed the experience and after having it once this weekend, you decided you preferred not to be subject to all that scalp pulling your sister has to endure and went back to wearing brightly colored rubber bands as bracelets.

But if you want ponies again next weekend, I'll do it for you again. But I will draw the line at wearing your hair this way in public -- I won't subject you to the disapproving glaring of an ignorant public until you are old enough to expect it, tolerate it, and answer to it.

That's my stand.

Love,
Mom

I Love You

Dear Jack,

I love you.

I love the way you hug me.

I love the way you kiss me.

I love the way you call animals by their sounds... a neigh, a ruff, a meow.

I love the way you talk on the phone, pacing the house.

I love the way you smile.

I love the way you crouch down, knees bent, to examine things.

I love the way you play, with such precision.

I love the way you love order, picking up after yourself.

I love the way you say your favorite movie, Nee-No! Nee-No! (Finding Nemo)

I love the way you say Sydney, "Sis-Sis"

I love the way you look for your family if you wake up and one of us is not here.

I love the way you hide in the pantry.

I love the way you play for an hour or more in the bath... as long as the faucet is set to a drip.

I love the way you get drinks from water fountains... press the button, move to get a drink, forget to hold the button, where did the water go? press the button, move to get a drink, forget to hold the button, where did the water go?

I love the way you look when you sleep.

I love the way you look when you have just woken up.

I love so many things about you.

But right now, this Valentine's Day, the thing I love most about you is the way you roar.

Love,
Mom

Word Clouds

Dear Jack,

I found a new website called wordle.


Can you tell what it does?

Love,
Mom

Seeing You in Winter

Dear Jack,

All week, the weatherman has predicted snow today, Friday February 4th. I was talking to one of my co-workers and expressing my excitement at the prospect of snow when she pointed out that it has snowed just last year and that it wasn't all that exciting. Not that exciting? Is Christmas less exciting because it happened a year ago? Is a birthday? Is going to the beach or the zoo or the museum?

Aside from everything else, the last time it snowed, you were a crawly baby, not a walking boy. It's a completely different experience for you and I am thrilled that you got to have again so soon in your toddlerhood.

Much like last year, you hated the coldness of the snow while simultaneously being enthralled by its texture. Unlike last year, though, you were able to move around in the snow without getting your entire body covered in snow.

You ran around in the snow and pelted your sister and me with handfuls of snow. You tried eating the snow and falling down on it.

You snuggled up with me on my hammock and enjoyed the warmth of the blanket and the gentle swinging motion.

Mostly, though, you looked adorable. Absolutely precious. The silly hat, the pink cheeks and nose, the bright blue eyes.

There is a Rodgers and Hammerstein song "If Ever I Would Leave You." It goes something like this, "if ever I would leave you, how could it be in winter; seeing you in winter, I never would go." Of course, the follow-up lines explain that the singer could never leave in fall, summer, or spring either.

I feel that way about you. In summer, I think I can't love you any more than I do, floating in the water, holding you. In fall, the pumpkins and their orangeness and the Jack o'Lantern puns bring me such joy and I fall in love with you in a way that I think cannot be replicated. Now it is winter and I cannot image loving you more than I do right now, seeing you in the snow.

What will spring bring? I cannot wait to see.

Love,
Mom