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Dearest Sunny Bunny,

You are only a month away from being more than one digit old. You’ll be thrilled with this development as TWO is clearly a favorite number of yours. You like to have two of anything in your possession. One for each hand.

Two forks for dinner time.

Two rakes when helping Daddy clear the driveway of winter’s debris.

Two crayons for coloring.

Two cookies.

When cookies are involved, this interest certainly works to your advantage.

But while counting was the highlight of Month 22, Month 23 has been the month of colors. You have successfully sorted out your ability to distinguish color, and boy oh boy is it your favorite way to categorize and understand the world.

Daddy was concerned that you might be colorblind, because in Month 22 you kept confusing “geen” and “wed” (green and red). I had to laugh when he pulled up a series of colorblind tests on the computer, and asked you if you could tell him what letters or numbers were on the screen. That request was a tad beyond your developmental capabilities, and I assured him that we probably needed to give you a bit more time to figure out color differentiation and the corresponding language.

You did not disappoint.

You’ll hold up your Elmo and proclaim, “Elmo wed! No Elmo geen. No Elmo blue. Elmo wed!”

You love to tell us the color of every passing vehicle. Of each Lego. Of your stuffed animals. Of your food. And most importantly, of your clothing. This ability to now discern and express color has led to a growing interest in selecting your own clothing each day when we dress you.

Last Friday, you demanded your blue sundress despite the 40 degree temperatures. And then requested that it be paired with your black and pink corduroy pants. It’s clear that we need to work on color coordination. But for now, we oblige your requests and send you to music class looking like a kid from the 80s. We want to be sure that you feel a sense of independence and freedom when it comes to your personal style, however wacky that style may be.

Now that we’re into wedding season, you’ve attended a number of large scale events and have demonstrated a shyness and neediness for Mommy and Daddy which is expected of most toddlers. I have to admit, it is very sweet to have you burrow into my arms when confronted with a room full of strangers, but it makes it exceedingly difficult to hold a conversation or put you on the ground when Mommy’s tired pregnant body struggles with your whopping 36 pounds of heft. And while you may be shy in larger group settings, you are anything but in the comfort of our home.

You shriek and run and repeat everything we say. You throw your stuffed animals around the room. You build massive block towers and dramatically knock them to the ground. You hurriedly color on your cardboard house and then bury yourself inside, peeking your head out the windows and cackling in delight when you catch our eye. You make up stories about the pictures you see of yourself, or the images you look at in your books. You put together and take apart puzzles. You mimic animal noises. You count down to blast off when demanding “big pushes” in your swing. You jump and dance on the “big pillows” in our house. You decisively tell us what food you’d like to eat, and eagerly ask for “Chocolate?” as though maybe, just maybe, if you ask enough, we’ll give you some. Admittedly, it has a 100% return rate if your Momar or Auntie Kimmy are in the vicinity.

Your love of animals grows by the day, as does your engagement and interaction with our dogs. You’ve mastered the most common commands that James and I use: “Sit,” “Lie Down,” “Out of the kitchen,” “Hanna no barking,” “Guys stop it,” “Stay,” “Come here,” “Good girls” and, “No!”. You like to make both Ursa and Hanna lie at your feet as you brush them feverishly with the dog brush. And you’ve taken an interest in pretending to put eye drops in their eyes like Mommy and Daddy do each day. It’s heartwarming to see how patient and gentle they are with you, and in turn, how loving and affectionate you are with them.

I cannot imagine raising you without their furry, ridiculous presence.

As my belly grows, and you become more and more of an independent, opinionated kid, I’m reminded of the massive life transition that you will experience in mere months. Of course I worry about how you’ll adapt to having Mommy and Daddy’s attention divided to another dependent being in the house. How you’ll react to being an older sister. I am simultaneously terrified and thrilled. Your little sister is already so lucky to have you in her life, just as you are so very lucky to have her.

As we’ve begun throwing the house into turmoil – switching your bedroom, bringing a new bed into the house, building your “big girl” bed, encouraging more frequent potty use – we’ve seen the challenges and difficulty of such transitions for you. Daddy and I are both very sensitive to how you are responding to these physical shifts in the house. You, our champion sleeper, have had an unhappy couple nights of trying to adapt to your new bedroom. Your pitiful moans and cries for us to comfort you remind us that despite all of your growth, you are still our baby, and we must help you through these adjustments. I can’t say I’ve minded cuddling with you, cradling you in my arms, and pulling you into bed with me to help ease your cries and provide some reassurance during these beginning stages of change. After all, no matter how old you are, a piece of me will still always think of you as my baby.

While you are not yet old enough to understand when I tell you that you will always always be my special and only first born, I hope that you feel the all-consuming love that your Daddy and I have for you. Always. No matter how many children we have. No matter your age. No matter how divided our attention may be.

You are responsible for making me a Mommy and I will never have language to fully convey the magnitude of such an act. No one will ever replace who you are and what you mean to this family. No one else will ever be our Sunny.

Happy 23 Months.

143,
Mama