17 Months

Dear Braden,

Yesterday you turned 17 months old. This past month was a rough month, my son. It was the month of 2 bad colds, and the suspicion that the mold in our home was either causing your illness directly, or lowering your immunity so that you were more susceptible to the ickies. But we’ll worry about that no more (for now) because during the first week of your 18th month, we’ll be moving into a new rental home.

I’d like to go ahead and ask you now (pretty please with sugar on top, and lots of cookies, Elmo and all the Baby Einstein and Doggie and Outside that you want?) to C-O-O-P-E-R-A-T-E with Mommy and Daddy while we try to move.

Or, you know… I could just lock you in the closet again while we get it all done. Your choice, really, my man.

I have continued to delight in watching you grow, change, and learn this past month, Braden. You are feisty, to say the least, and you show it more and more as your ability to express yourself verbally strengthens. Why, just the other day, I was standing in front of YOUR kitchen cabinet just at the moment you wanted to open it. So you opened it, and while using it to shove me out of the way, you looked up at me and said, “Scoose ooh!”

“Excuse you,” indeed. I cannot imagine WHERE you got that expression. *cough*

You’re still screaming at every.little.thing that doesn’t float your proverbial boat, but it doesn’t seem as bad anymore. But maybe that’s because I’ve lost 73% of my hearing since you started in with The Shriekover two months ago. I suppose eventually I’ll be one of those parents at the restaurant that everybody hates. You know, the one who just completely zones out the insanely wild screaming of her offspring, while dreaming she’s on a remote island, millions of miles from a poopie diaper?

The latest thing that causes a meltdown with you is Brushing Teeth. The ritual entails that we do this during bathtime. Quiet frankly, you happily request “Shh ttthhhththththththttthhhh!”

In fact, if I reject your request, you get quite annoyed.

You used to chew on the brush a lot and rub it all around your mouth, which was cool. Now you just kinda suck the toothpaste off and then sit down with the brush under the water, staring off into nowhereland. You are probably pondering the great mysteries of the world. Such as where, exactly, the PeePee goes when it “Goes Bye-Bye!” down the toilet when we flush and wave at it.

And, well, I really have no desire for you to get Gingivitis or have rotten teeth. If you were older, I could scare you with pictures like this:

But for now, I just brush your teeth for you. While you scream and thrash, and HOOOOWWWWL to the world about the injustices of Forced Tooth Brushing. It’s over in a few seconds, and then a few minutes after that, we both start liking each other again.

Besides, after having your first lolly ever, that Kat sent you, I have a feeling there’s no turning back.

So we better get used to this teeth-brushing thing, kid.

Speaking of hygienic matters, I have to mention that we started treating your famous bum much more kindly this month.

Yes, son, this was the month where we stopped putting sacks of jelly which contain chemicals that were banned from tampons for causing Toxic Shock Syndrome on your rump. Because, really, it was just gross, expensive, and wasteful. And you have already sent enough lovely wrapped packages of your fecal waste to sit on the earth for 500 years up to this point, so we decided it was high time to swaddle your sweet hind in cute colors and fabrics. So there.

The thing I think about most when I think about this past month is just being with you, and playing. We still read so much… you love your books. You have your favorites, and they are well-worn – these are the ones you bring to me and your Daddy over and over again. They are the ones you have in your little hands when you nuzzle your butt into my lap for a good read. Sometimes I complain that I haven’t read an adult book in ages… but I’d read “Clifford, the Big Red Dog!” for the rest of my life just to have your little butt in my lap and your warm back up against me, as I smell your sweet hair.

Of course, sometimes you want to do other things, like color.

Your teeth.

And if you’re not going to brush them properly, we’re totally not stickin’ crayons in there, yo.

You still require large doses of “Oww-siiigh!”

And you have realized that the key to going outside is putting on “Shoe?” So you bring me shoes a lot. All different kinds. Hoping it will throw the magic switch to open the door to The Outside.

Because it’s one of the things that makes you incredibly happy.

Except for when the YUCKY WHITE STUFF is all over your Outside.

Then you get mad.

But don’t worry, honey. That doesn’t happen very often here. Besides, we can always just go inside where it’s warm and play Peekaboo with the blankie.

And, really, there’s nothing I’d rather do than play games with you all day long, because you are pretty much my best friend. And I know that I am yours (for now) and I’m going to relish that, for it will not last long, in the grand scheme of things.

Okay, okay. Maybe there’s one thing other than playing with you that I really like a lot. Watching you sleep. There’s something pretty enchanting about this: