Dear Harper – Months 26 & 27

Yet another trip to the U.S. has come between me and your monthly letter, you jet-set toddler, you. We spent most of February in the U.S., where you did a fantastic job traveling all the way from Charlotte, NC to Boston, stopping in West Virginia, Washington, D.C., New York City and Vermont in between. We managed to visit a lot of friends we hadn’t seen in a long time (or, in the case of Kristin and Piotr, friends we had never seen before), and you only had a few mega meltdowns. And only pooped on someone’s floor once. So, you know, we’re calling the trip a success.

‘Next To You’

These days, whenever I’m at home, it’s very important for you to sit as close as you possibly can to me. You’ll say, “Next to you,” then, “close enough,” which usually means “not close enough.” Sometimes I get the feeling you’d just like to move back into my uterus. It’s the same when it’s time to sleep. You usually fall asleep on top of me, crushing me with over 30 pounds of Harper, or you’ll fall asleep with your arms wrapped around my head or arm.

But before you get me in a toddler-love headlock, we usually read a few books. And lately you’ve been demanding “read to you!” So, I let you read to me, and it usually goes like this: Cow jumpa moon, three bears chairs, young mouse, comb, brush …. mush! That’s all the farther we get with “Goodnight Moon,” because you demand that I let you read it now, but you don’t know any more than that. Sometimes I can convince you to share the book with me, then I can usually get through to the end, but I’ll admit: It’s kind of a creepy book anyway. Why does a baby rabbit need a phone in his room? Is he planning on eating that mush in the morning? Who is the old lady? And – where can I get a bedroom with a fireplace in it?

So, you are talking up a storm, and sometimes we can follow you … and sometimes we can’t. Right now your favorite word seems to be “too.” If mama has a headache, Harper, too! If mama and daddy are having coffee, Harper, too (but really, hell no)! And your daddy has brainwashed you into loving soccer – which means you’ll yell, “Goal-a goal-a goal-a” anytime you see anything ball-shaped (Goal-a is not, as far as I know, a word in English or German, but it is something your father loves to yell when watching and playing soccer). And, yesterday as you were watching a soccer game on TV with daddy, you repeatedly used another favorite phrase, “Ich kann’s!” That means “I can” in German, and you are actually not that bad at kicking a soccer ball around. We’re kind of hoping that you are really good at soccer so you can take care of us when we’re old. OK?

Sometimes you’re shy around people, and you’ll actually say, “Harper. Shy.” When we got back from the U.S., we visited Uschi at the doctor’s office downstairs, and you didn’t want to give her a hug when we left. But no sooner were we in the stairwell did you say, “Uschi, hug!”So we had to go back to give her a hug. All in all, you’re not really shy, but you are definitely cautious and like to watch other kids play at the park before you join in. Which reminds me of another favorite word of yours: Look! Harper look!

Something new you like to say is “like!” You’re like a walking Facebook page, liking everything you see. Today you said, “Harper like laugh.” You also like the new rug in our bathroom, your friend Ella and your blue and white striped jacket.

You are also apparently very empathetic, which I suppose means we’re doing something right with you. The other day I had a splitting headache, and I made the mistake of saying, “Mommy sick.” This made you burst into wailing tears, and I had to do my best (though a cloudy veil of throbbing pain) to explain to you that I wasn’t really sick, but just said that because I didn’t know how else to explain to you that my head hurts really bad. After a lot of hugs and kisses (and a fistful of Tylenol for mama), everything was fine.

‘Harper Stinky’

Potty training has become something of a pain around here … and this is where these letters to you are probably going to be a source of embarrassment to you later (your grandma, by the way, has great stories about me pooping my pants when I was little, and they embarrass me to this day; I’d like to think that I am merely chronicling your childhood here, so you know, it’s just the facts…). But the thing is this: You refuse to poop in the toilet. We’ve come to learn that if you disappear somewhere and you’ve actually shut the door behind you, you’re dropping a load in your diaper. When you come out, you’ll announce, “Poop!” And then your daddy and I will stupidly say, “Let’s go to the toilet!” even though we know the answer is, “No. Diaper.” We keep telling you that if you can manage to poop in the toilet, you can wear underwear like your best American friend Samaire, to which you say, “Maire … underwear.” So, you know, I’m not sure how much is sinking in. Actually, that’s a lie: I know you understand, but I guess you’re just not ready yet, and while we’ve tried to ply you with promises of Tootsie Pops if you poop on the toilet, I think we just need to give it a rest. But seriously: It’s really gross to change your poopy diapers, and I will forgo any mother’s day gifts for the next 10 years if you just start pooping in the toilet.

You and your bestie Samaire

‘Hamboo?

When we were in the U.S., we apparently went out to eat so often that you now like to play waitress. You’ll take our orders by either writing on a little notepad or by pretending to write on your hand. Your restaurant has a very limited menu, and before anyone gets a chance to order, you’ll usually make suggestions: Hamboo (hamburger)? Onnie (onion)? Dinger (these weird dried fruit bar things that you love almost as much as you love gummy bears)? Dummy dares (gummy bears)? Water? Wine? Candy? When asked what kind of candy, you’ll usually say, “Purple one.” Okay then.

Harper like laugh. Yeah, I think that pretty much sums it all up.

Love,

Mama

This month’s nicknames: Gum gum, Baby Bear, Harper Bear