This 20 month version of you goes to bed with a handful of toys. Toys that don’t see more than 2 minutes of playtime before you nod off, your hands tightly gripped around said toys.
This version of you wears a sticker on your shirt – the one you get each week when we go the chiropractor, and even though there is a basket filled with variety, you always dig around until you find this exact same one. (and the receptionist is kind enough to save them for you, and slip them in the basket before you arrive)
This version of you is certainly developing your own opinion, and for the first time this week, you refused the shorts I selected for you to wear in lieu of another pair. You pulled the stiff-legged manoeuvre, wiggling your little feet around, making it impossible for me to put the shorts on. You also asked for “different milk” when I pulled your bottle out of the fridge tonight for supper. First of all – how do you even know the word different? And second – how are you able to comprehend that you need something different than what I’m offering you? Thirdly – do you think I’ll ever stop underestimating you?
This version of you continues to learn and learn and learn. I know I’m just talking like every other mom when I say that I think you’re really smart, but I’m ok with that. You counted to 10 the other day (well, you skipped four, but I’m still going to count it), and it wasn’t even on my prompting – you were just playing by yourself in the backseat of the car, and I overheard you. What else are you capable of little one? What other things do you do when we’re not even around?
This version of you is very funny. And you know it, based on the little smirk on your face that rolls across your lips when you know you’re entertaining us, or teasing us.
This version of you is a gentle soul, who obeys us, still, when we ask you to do something you don’t want to do (often putting something away, or down), and then you’ll come bury your face in our chest because you know you’d rather keep holding onto whatever we’ve just asked you to put away, and you’re trying so hard to sort through your feelings.
I don’t know when the first day will be that we don’t look in on you while you sleep, but for now, we love walking in, looking down and seeing this version of you.