Maybe you'd like to see a photo of the two of you together:
You are very in love with Russell, which has kind of been cramping your going-to-bed routine, since you didn't want to miss out on a second of his visit. I can't blame you -- I love the guy, too. Having him here has also cut down on the amount of tantrums you've been throwing, at least in his presence. You used the chance yesterday to have a medium-sized meltdown while he went jogging.
Oh yes, the tantrums. You will crawl away from us, screaming and bitching, and we're not allowed to touch you, talk to you or look at you. Sometimes it helps to put cold washcloths on your head; other times, it helps to show you your way into your PeaPod tent, where you can be alone and calm down. Nothing works all the time, but we are always trying to remember that you are a toddler, and this is what your kind does. At least you don't scream for me to nurse you, which is good because I probably wouldn't be able to to deny you that.
While you are nowhere being weaned, we've gotten to the point over the last few weeks that you are only nursing to sleep and at night. When you wake up in the morning and want to nurse, I can usually offer you a cup of milk without protest instead. Of course, since we are going to the States in about a week, I have a feeling that all this daytime weaning is going to go down the gutter. Nevertheless, I feel like we're on the way to getting you off the boob, which is more than I can say about how I felt about it a month ago.
Your newest hobby is to go to the park with Daddy to visit your babies, which is what you call the ducks there. They all know you and come running to you when they see you, because they know that you have food and aren't really coordinated enough to break the bread up into little, tiny pieces.
You also like to look at books with your babies or with cars. And then you usually try to get into the books or into your toy dump truck but pulling your elbows into your sides and holding your palms up, like if you can just make yourself compact enough, you can squeeze yourself into that plastic car and go drag Main with the Playmobil trashman.
Your love for butter is bigger than ever, and is your love for cakies (cookies), pilch (milk) and shoosh (juice ... or shoes ... or tchüss, the German word for good bye). You talk a lot, but we usually don't understand you. It's clear that you're telling a story sometimes, but we can only pick out a few words: blah blah blah Diddy (Lilly) blah blah blah Brummmmm! blah blah blah Lide (Slide) blah blah blah. While we hope we can start to understand more of what you say soon, it's kind of hilarious to listen to you chatter.
You also like to dance, and what can I say? You're a natural, just like your parents:
Love,
Mama
This month's nicknames: Baby Bear, Gummy, Gum Gum, Mr. Troubles
This month's song: Gone in the Morning by Newton Faulkner
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