18 Months

Dearest Gwennie Goo,

Eighteen months, a whole year and a half... How did that happen? And how is it that you are still so attached to me?

People who come to our house often tell me that you are a ham. You will make people laugh and it makes you laugh harder, which in turn makes them giggle more. I see so much fun in you, yet sometimes, you can be so serious. Especially in the car, when you are looking at your books. You lovingly turn pages, and point at things giving them little names. At home, you pull book after book off of the shelf, caressing the pages in a way that makes me know that you will love books and cherish the secrets kept inside.

You throw fits, because you don’t always get your way. You will wrap your arms around yourself, and your bottom lip juts out, while your head drops.

Words have become your friends. There isn’t a dog within 100 yards of you that you will not spot, and squeal “DOGGY!” in delight. Then there is the big one, the one I have been waiting for.

You can say “Please” and you sign it. Although often you rub my chest instead of your own when you want milk. You point at things with your left hand, like the cupboard that holds your favorite snack, cashews, and enthusiastically rub your chest with your right hand “Peees?” you implore. “Peees?” It melts me heart, and I will give you nearly anything you ask for when you ask like that.

Some other words that you have started using routinely, “shish” for fish, “shoe,” “cheese,” “gok” for sock. I know there are quite a few more, but your poor mama is sick, and is having a hard time putting two words of her own together. I think that you put G in front of more words than Rhayn did. I don’t remember her using the G sound until she was older.

I miss my baby, because in the past little while, you have begun to look more like a little girl. Maybe its your hair, growing so long. Maybe its your face, although its still round, it is losing its baby-ness. Maybe it’s the way you act, sitting there so grown up looking while you read your books. Maybe its just because I know you will not be my baby much longer, and I want to hold onto your baby self, so tightly, so closely, before you run off to play.

Just sit here, with your Mama, a moment longer as a baby. Before you grow up.

I love you,
Your Sentimental Mama