Dear Fern, part XXXI

Dear Fern,

"Thank you for a nice day, daddy."

Sweet girls.

Today, the day you turn 31 months old, that's what you said in lieu of "Good night." Mommy and daddy looked incredulously at one another. We didn't tell you to say that -- we've never told you to say anything remotely like that. Earlier in the day, unprompted, you came out with "Thank you for dinner, mommy!" It warmed our hearts, it was a nice sentiment, but where did you learn it?

The answer is obvious, of course: you heard someone use the expression, you understood and liked it, so you adopted it as your own. But not so long ago at least one of your parents was present and usually responsible for every one of your "learning moments." Now, it seems, you're teaching yourself.

The other day you wanted to show off your sunglasses to your cousin. You just whipped them out, unfolded the earpieces, and put them on in the fluid gesture of an L.A. driver. A few months ago trying the same action you would have nearly punctured an eardrum or else ended up with the glasses upside down. But we never taught you the skill -- we couldn't say for sure that you learned it this month, even. But you learned it, and you learned it somewhere on your own.

Have you been practicing these things during nap time?

You count now -- not just numbers, which you've done in a rote way for a long time, but you now enumerate things with numbers. You climb up on the big toilet and take care of business alone -- usually with the door closed, "for privacy," as you say. And you learned to turn the deadbolt and let yourself out of the house, a skill we'd just as soon you'd left for a couple more years.

You're learning to be a compassionate little thing, too. We get lots of spontaneous and apparently heartfelt thank yous, hugs, kisses, and knuckle bumps. You like nothing more than to care for babies by putting your face directly into theirs and saying "It's OK, little buddy." Apparently, you think that infant care is a Gilligan's Island rerun, but oddly, it seems to work: babies love you.

Stuffed and imaginary pals aren't forgotten, either. You spent a few memorable nights with your mom making beds for a monkey and a frog out of a fruit roll-up box and bits of felt using rolled adhesive tape for the pillows, and you're ever holding Joey's hand when we cross the street, the better to keep her invisible little self safe from cars.

There are still challenges, of course. Your nighttime sleep is still fantastic, but naps can be a struggle. You are sometimes bossy with kids your own age and slightly older (like your parents). But those rough edges only appear when you're sleepy or hungry -- on whole, you're a charming, personable little kid, and every day you master new skills and words and grownup emotions, whether we see how you're doing it or not -- usually not.

Well done.

We love you very, very much,

 

Mommy & Daddy

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Here's this month's slideshow. If you can't see the pictures below, click this link.

Dear Fern, part XXX

Dear Fern,

 
Big. Girl. Bed.

You are two and a half years old today. Happy Half Birthday!

After weeks -- months -- of struggling with you to fall asleep alone, we finally discovered the solution: bribes.

Well, OK, let's call them "rewards." You've got a rewards chart -- every day you put yourself to sleep, you get a sticker on it, and three days of stickers mean a prize picked from a bag of covet-worthy treats: nail polish, paint sets, Swiss army knives -- heck, we were desperate enough to put anything in that bag.

What's funny, though, is that once mom set up the chart and the prize bag, it took you maybe two days to become a champion self-sleeper: you caught right on. The crucial breakthrough was comprehension: if we explain what we need from you, you get it. And, if the reward is great enough, you even want it.

Potty training took an imperceptibly short time once we established the one-jelly-bean-per-successful-pee rule. Nearly constant diapers and the potty chair as a novelty is so last week: now it's diapers-only-while-sleeping and we're looking into getting one of those workplace "Days Without An Accident" signs.

Of all the rewards, the grand prize of them all, the trophy that really turned your sleeping around was this:

The Big Girl Bed.

Yes, the very idea of a twin bed that was all your own -- a bed you could get in and out of at will, a bed that you could pile high with your stuffed animals and books -- that drove you to change your sleeping habits nearly instantly. For a few days, you would cry when left in bed, but for no more than five minutes or so. (By comparison, when we tried to do this in April, you screamed for 20 minutes and seemed ready to keep it up for hours except that we, your pathetic parents, couldn't take it.)

You told your friends, your relations, even your acrobatics teacher about your big girl bed; soon you'd repeated the phrase so incessantly that it came out more like "BIGurlbbed." You wanted to look through every furniture catalog that came to the house to pick out just the right one. And, night after night, you put yourself to sleep with little or no complaint.

And finally, yesterday, the Ikea man came by so that you could spend the night before your half birthday, for the first time, in your big girl bed. And you fell asleep on your own, and slept through the night. (To be perfectly honest, you did wake up an hour earlier than normal when you managed to squeeze past the safety bar and fell on the floor, but that's to be expected once or twice, right?)

In just a couple of weeks you turned sleeping from one of your hugest challenges to an enormous success. Sure, the reward had something to do with it, but we tell ourselves firstly, "So what?", and secondly, that you accomplished something hard by deciding you really wanted it -- and that's something for you (and us) to be proud of.

Nice job. We love you very, very much,

Mommy & Daddy

---

Here's this month's slideshow. If you can't see the pictures below, click this link.

Dear Fern, part XXIX

Dear Fern,

Fern, getting ready to say something really goofy.

You're 29 months old today. In our family, five-twelfths-birthdays are a time of reflection, even more than half birthdays or the lunar new year. Thus, we decided this month to simply jot down everything fascinating and bizarre you say. Sadly, you say incredible stuff about thirty times a day, so we were desperately understaffed for the task. Suffice it to call these few quotes your highlight reel. (Or, in some cases, your bloopers...)

It's a parenting truism is that the astounding things that kids say get flattened in the retelling, so we'll report these with little exposition and rely on your imagination to fill in the flavor of your monologues, conversations and general observations on various subjects. To wit:

On health:

June 17th:

"Bird seed is the best medicine."

I'm not sure if it clarifies anything that "bird seed" is your term for cashews or peanuts.

On technology:

June 20th, on a fake cell phone:

"Papa? Papa? Where are you? Here, I'll put you on speakerphone."

On matters veterinary (and exculpatory):

June 7th, after chasing our cat out of your room and receiving a mild rebuke:

"I kicked Carson to make her feel better. Maybe she likes to be kicked!"

On your role in the universe:

June 20th, speaking to the refrigerator door after having just pulled out a yogurt:

"I'm going to hold you to keep you stable."

On seasoning:

June 21st, after playing in the backyard with the neighbor kids:

"Mommy, I ate some rosemary in the backyard. It's totally edible!"

On San Francisco:

June 21st, some little time later, out of the blue:

"I love our neighborhood!"

On hygiene:

June 17th:

"You can kiss me if you wipe it off."

On laundry:

June 23rd, while "helping" fold clean clothes:

"I'm a pile of underwear!"

On exceptions:

June 10th, after hitting mom and getting a stern talking-to, in a bewildered voice:

"But we can hit butt cracks!"

On food:

June 23rd, finding a leaf on the kitchen floor and showing it to dad:

"Can I suck on this?"

On implications:

June 22nd, getting ready to go:

Mom: "Do you remember what we're doing this morning? We're going to Deb & Erica's baby shower."

Fern: "Are we washing the baby's hair?"

On neonatal care:

June 25th:

"Don't touch my nose right now, because I've got a baby!"

On nature:

June 26th, swinging at the playground:

"I smell the wind."

On gifts:

July 1st, using the pretend cell phone attached to the kitchen from Grandma Ocean:

"Hey, papa! Thanks for taking pictures! Do you got a kitchen? I don't remember. Do you got a kitchen?"

On dumb jokes:

You learned a dumb joke from an Elmo doll ("Why shouldn't a pizza tell jokes? Because they're really cheesy!"). One morning, mom was making cheesy eggs, so dad gave you the prompt -- "Why shouldn't a pizza..." -- and you impishly answered,

"Because they're really eggy!"

On fashion (or a legal career):

June 25th, getting dressed in the morning:

Fern: "I want to wear my flower pants."

Dad: "Oh, they're a little bit dirty, though."

Fern: "Oh, but they're a little bit clean, though."

On love:

June 25th, as you were falling asleep:

Mom: "I love you very, very much."

Fern: "I love Darryl very much. I really really love Darryl. I love Darryl. I love Darryl very very much. Darryl's my driver."

Darryl is one of the drivers on the bus line that takes you down to your favorite playground.

---

I know you'll believe that these are all real quotations, direct from your funny little brain, because I suspect that we couldn't invent anything nearly as interesting. Making them up couldn't possibly be half as fun as listening to you come up with them yourself, anyway: these days, every conversation we have with you means a trip through your oddball imagination.

It's tons of fun: more so every day.

We love you very, very much,

Mommy & Daddy

---

Here's this month's slideshow. If you can't see the pictures below, click this link.

Dear Fern, part XXVIII

Dear Fern,

Fern shows Joey how to handle a goat.

You're two and a third today, which is one-third of the way to seven, though sometimes it feels like you're already there. This installment of our monthly letter to your future self will be about one of your best friends, lest you forget about her in the years between now and whenever you're reading this.

Her name is Joey. When we describe her to our adult friends, we call her "imaginary," but that's just shorthand for "so real that you can't quite see her." Joey appeared (so to speak) just before we found out that you're going to have a baby brother or sister, so it's possible that she's your stand-in sibling during the long wait for the real one. Your mom's childhood invisible friend was a scapegoat she used to explain her own misdeeds to herself, but you don't seem to blame anything on Joey -- she simply comes along for the ride, the game, or the story.

Joey is your all-but-constant companion. She's had dinner with us and she frequently rides in the car. You push her in the playground swings and she was at the zoo the other day. (Sadly, she's afraid of goats. But you showed her that they're safe.) She's the perfect companion in that she can go off and play by herself when you're engrossed in activity, but when you're lonely or bored, she'll trot back over in her imaginary way and enliven the day.

You like to introduce Joey to your family. We've had two sets of grandparents visit this month, so you got several chances to describe her. The first time Joey's hair came up, it was pink. (Later in the month it turned "dark" -- your word for black, we think -- so she's either going natural or goth.) It's really neat that you introduce Joey to your grandpeople and other relations as it underscores your connection to all of them -- separately, as individual people that you can tell apart and appreciate for their differences. Even your out-of-town uncles, aunts, and cousins feature regularly in your life, thanks partly at least to regular Skype sessions. There seems to be a part of your mind reserved for family: you'll ask to call a certain grandpa or pretend to visit a particular grandma at least a couple of times a day.

Our first misunderstanding about Joey came from the name: your dad understandably asked you about "him." You quickly corrected Joey's gender: she's a she, the name notwithstanding, which begs the question of how you figured out that Joey could even be a girl's name. (Short for Josephine, presumably?) Did you see it on a Sesame Street podcast? Did we read you a book with a Joey heroine and forget about it? Are you studying the French revolution when we're not looking? We have no idea.

Joey was around your age once, then she was a little older, and just today she was 8 -- as ever, you tend to play with older kids. On the other hand, this month you've started to see younger babies in a novel way, perhaps best summed up as "animate playthings." You like to help them walk, push them on swings, and the other day you told a five-month old to cover her mouth when she sneezes. You've loved dolls for a while now, but where once they were more independent friends (like your Frida doll), now your Dolly relies on you to carry her across the street, give her a bottle, and tuck her in at night. You’re becoming a big sister, and big-sisterhood becomes you.

They say that imaginary friends are projections of a child's own personality. You have such an immense personality that it's completely plausible that it would erupt out of your head as Joey the Wonder Girl. Wherever she comes from, it's always a merry day when Joey appears. (Of course, with you around, every day is already fun anyway!)

We love you very, very much,

Mommy & Daddy

---

Here's this month's slideshow. If you can't see the pictures below, click this link.

Dear Fern, part XXVII

Dear Fern,

Fern and Erwan, expecting

Now you are 2 and a quarter. It seems that you look around daily and say, "Hey, check out all these people!" More and more often, when we take you to the playground or on an outing or when a visitor comes calling, you'll leave us behind and run off with playmates of your own choosing.

This month, you had what we're calling your "first conversation." You'd been following a trio of four-year old girls around the playground. You love four-year old girls, although (or perhaps because) they treat you a little like a pet, their most compliant friend. Paige, one of the girls, pulled you aside to invite you to a cookie party for her Cinderella doll over at the bench. You, Paige, and Cinderella sat there enjoying Fig Newtons, lost in chat about various important topics. Paige showed you a ballet step that you tried to copy. Best of all, no parents were present, encouraging you the way we sometimes do to "Show little Paige the way you like to dance!" No, you undertook the entire interaction all on your own, with us just eavesdropping.

It's not just girls who interest you, of course. You got to spend a few days with Erwan this month during his school's spring break, and you two are still best of friends. (One day, you practiced being pregnant together. You're having a duck, and Erwan's expecting a panda.) And you like younger kids, too. When we got to brunch and hike with our friends Kelley and Phil and nearly one-year old Elias a couple of weeks ago, you wanted to show the baby everything you know about being a big kid: your room, your toys, and your music.

And then there was Joey. It occurred to you a couple of weeks ago that people in your life don't have to be manifest, so you started talking about friends that your mom and dad had never met, and, in fact, don't exist in any physical form. Joey was the most common imaginary visitor, and boy oh boy is she a scream. Joey dresses really well, favoring flower shirts and hair bands -- just like you! She likes to eat breakfast with you, but frequently goads you into jumping up and playing before mealtime is through. And, best of all, Joey likes to take you on those long airplane trips to visit your grandparents.

Even characters in books deserve your attention. In a photo from one of your favorites (Sea Lion Roars, of course), a baby sea lion appears to be crying. Reading the book with your mom last week, you handed your bottle over to the book and said, "There you go, little buddy!" The sea lion didn't visibly react, but he was surely grateful. You do similar things for your dolly, with whom you have regular conversations when more animated company isn't available.

So you're well on your way to compassion, a journey we witness almost every day through your fascination with other people and creatures. It's inspiring to behold, really: empathy in its rawest infancy.

Keep it up! We love you very, very much,

 

Mommy & Daddy

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Here's this month's slideshow. If you can't see the pictures below, click this link.

Dear Fern, part XXVI

Dear Fern,

Listening for an easter egg

You're twenty-six months old today. Thirteen-sixths of a year!

We still call you "baby" sometimes, but every day that nickname is less accurate. Your attitudes, your interests, and your capabilities are quickly becoming those of a little girl. The real line to kidhood was crossed when you widened your eyes to perceive the greater world around you -- no, not just your eyes; you're tuning every sense you've got to your surroundings. So for this month's retrospective, let's go on a tour of your senses and how they've expanded of late.

Taste. You've got a New Yorker's palate: you love pastrami, grilled onions, and pickles, not to mention mushrooms and gourmet olives. Clearly, you inherited this eclecticism from your mother, who also loved a good ethnic nosh as a toddler, and not your father, who wouldn't even touch a mushroom until his 20s. Which isn't to say that you're a fantastic eater; some days you won't eat much more than a few Goldfish no matter how hard we try, but then the next day you'll wolf down an entire slice of pizza. Or four.

Touch. One of your favorite backyard activities is burying your feet in the birdseed bucket. (Let this serve as a reminder to all of you not to eat our birdseed.) Interestingly, after you've done that, you obsessively remove every grain of millet from between your toes. You also insist on stripping off all your clothes should three drops of water sully your sleeve, although that may just mean that you like being naked.

Hearing. "What's that noise?" comes up so often that we as parents find ourselves listening to our surroundings a lot more, too. You'll point out a distant lawnmower, or the sound of a hammer next door, or odd new bird sounds. (We're jealous of the fact that you can already tell a chickadee from a hummingbird by their songs.) Music, as always, is one of your greatest joys. Listening to the Nutcracker Suite a couple of weeks ago, you said, completely unprompted, "I hear butterflies singing." Oddly, you repeated the comment when Ray Charles played "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," which I guess shows you've got some good taste in music, too.

Sight. You're always looking around these days. When we are driving in an unfamiliar place, you ask "What's happening here?" or "Where are we?" You also want to know who lives in every house we pass. More than ever, you're sensitive to things that you see that have changed: if a doll is not where you left it, you'll notice. Your eyes are sharp, too: you can point out the last tiny ripe blackberry on the vine or the cat in a distant window down the street.

Smell. Spring means heaps of blooming flowers in the neighborhood. Smelling flowers is a favorite pastime, although one of them turned on you a couple of weeks ago. That's when you discovered a marigold: when you sniffed it, you recoiled from the stink almost like you were personally offended. Ever since then, you've been checking out different flowers somewhat… suspiciously. Still, you'll go out of your way to smell a rosemary bush (and taste it too, more often than not).

You're developing other senses, too: your sense of humor has been bolstered recently by the riddles printed on your string cheese wrappers that you love to repeat, although you sometimes mix up the punch lines. ("What kind of room has no windows and no doors? A necklace!") And your sense of mischief is ever-present and ever-growing: at the playground the other day, you purloined your friend's hat and hid it in the merry-go-round, and you're forever sneaking into the closet so we'll hunt for you. (Just now, writing this, daddy found a change-of-address sticker on his back. I wonder how that got there?) And, as we've written before, your sense of style is emphatic and pronounced. You've got firm ideas about what goes together in an outfit -- stripes, flowers, and butterflies are big at the moment.

The changes are coming blisteringly fast now, although amazingly, you're still that same big baby we met in person over two years ago -- that, and yet so much more that it's hard to put every transformation into words.

We love you very, very much,

Mommy & Daddy

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Here's this month's slideshow. If you can't see the pictures below, click this link.

Dear Fern, part XXV

Dear Fern,

Playing "chase around the pillar" with Emmeline

Twenty-five months! That's a quarter of a hectamonth old! One thing that stands out this month is how you've worked on your relationship skills. You've always enjoyed other kids, but when it came to serious "play" you once typically looked to an adult, or else played by yourself.

Lately, though, you've done a great job inventing games with playmates. You don't need much adult encouragement to engage another kid in playing (or hugging or singing). Around mid-month, you met a 4-year old girl at an unfamiliar playground, and before long the two of you were happily spinning on the merry-go-round. You'd somehow gotten her to sing "Ring Around the Rosey" with you and she was playing with your hair bows. She had to leave soon after, but before she was whisked off for her nap, she asked daddy, "Can she be my friend?" To be honest, you looked nonplussed, but at least you nodded in a sort of accommodating way as she hugged you.

Your joint-play repertoire has also grown. Thanks to Erwan, you've enjoyed a good game of crash for months, but now you also like walking hand-in-hand, climbing, see-sawing, chasing, and, of course, dancing with other kids. At a sandbox equipped with a fountain, you and two older boys started a busy car wash business, first rinsing off all the toy tractors and shovels and then getting them sandy again. (You were best at the second part.)

You also reached a huge milestone by weaning this month. It was sudden, forced on you by mommy's appendectomy, and you've done pretty well. Although you don't ask to nurse any more, you haven't been sleeping quite as well, and it seems that you are feeling the loss. On the upside, you've become a lot more willing to hug and snuggle -- something you didn't used to put up with for too long.

So, all in all, another great month, the first of your third year. Spring is here and the weather is gorgeous in San Francisco (when we left the house today you commented "It's a beautiful day!"). We're looking forward to many outdoor adventures with you in the month to come!

We love you very, very much,

Mommy & Daddy

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Here's this month's slideshow. Sorry there are so many pictures -- we couldn't decide! If you can't see the pictures below, click this link.

Dear Fern, part XXIV

Dear Fern,

Our proud 2-year old

Today you are two!

If the "terrible twos" are starting, we haven't had much sign of it yet. Sure, you're a little stubborn about sitting at the dinner table if there's something more interesting to do, but for the most part you are engaged, excited, and filled with just as much zest for life as you always have been.

We could probably write pages filled with stories about what you're "into" as you turn two, but to make things easier, we'll just jot down a list of your five favorite things in life.

Fern's Top Five Thrills At Two

1. People. You are devoted to members of your family, even those you don't get to see very often. Some days you'll randomly pipe up with the name of a grandparent or cousin or uncle or aunt, run over to your photo album, and show us the picture of the chosen relation. You love talking to your far-off relatives on the phone (and the computer!) and you enjoy their visits even more. More and more, you seem to like to orchestrate these connections -- "you sit here," "grandma play dolls," "call uncle," that sort of thing.
   
   You're quite fond of your friends, too, not to mention their parents. A couple of months ago, you started requesting playdates, and now not a day goes by but that you inquire after the whereabouts of Erwan, Emmeline, Emma, or Galicia.
   
   
2. Animals. A couple of days ago, you found two crickets under a paving stone. Crickets are hard to hold and easy to hurt, but you picked them up ever-so-gently and cupped them in your hands so you could peer at their funny "eyes" (which is what you call antennae). Then, and this makes us really proud, you put them right back where you found them -- "home," as you said. Scale is no matter to you: you gently stroke our cat Carson, but you can also push around the ornery petting zoo goats like a dyed-in-the-wool farmgirl.
   
   
3. Pretending. Every day, you discover ways that your newfound "pretending" skill can serve you. You're an old hand at tea parties, and you still travel by the "airplane" behind the armchair. You've added to your repertoire, though: you drive, cook, eat, and dig in your pretend world. You can be a butterfly, a worm, or a lion. You've probably changed as many diapers as we have, but your diaper changes are a lot more interesting: you've swathed a duck, Elmo, and, of course, Frida Kahlo. You're especially fond of pretend presents: gift bags you fill with various toys (or imaginary treats) and then give to us, or just open yourself. You also pretend to swim in the bathtub, although you've only been in a pool once.
   
   
4. Music. You've come to prefer songs with a "fill-in" component, something that can change each time you sing them. Just yesterday you were singing to "Mary Wore a Red Dress," but you substituted "Fern" for "Mary" and various parts of your outfit for the dress: "Fern wore new shoes!" and "Fern wore orange tights!" A couple of days ago you also sang about how "Frida wore her red dress." (You love that doll!)
   
   Lyrics. Rhythm. Humming. Experimenting with instruments. You love it all. Every morning when you come downstairs, or when we get into the the car, you request the kind of music you want that day. Sometimes you really want to hear your Music Together songs, or the addictive Boynton albums you got for Christmas. For that matter, you're still asking for Christmas music long after the season ended. And nothing delights you more than when you know the words to a song.
   
   
5. Dancing and Moving. Few things make you more ecstatically enthusiastic than dancing. You've got favorite music, of course, but you don't really need any music to dance; a little clapping is plenty of impetus for you to get on your feet. You saw a Sesame Street video about ballet and now you love to twirl and tiptoe and pretend you're flying around like a butterfly. You're a wonder in your acrobatics class, swinging giddily from a trapeze and bouncing on a trampoline. And it's no secret that any adult willing to swing you around wins major points -- as long as they'll do it "again!" and "again!" and "again!", that is.

We could go on … you love to wash dishes, you love to fix things with screwdrivers and tape, you positively lust after any water voluminous enough to splash. But for now, we'll just leave it here: you are growing and learning so much every day that we'd hardly be able to write it all down.

We love you very, very much,

Mommy & Daddy

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Here's this month's slideshow. If you can't see the pictures below, click this link.

Dear Fern (Part XXIII)

Dear Fern,

As usual for this time of year (and isn't it amazing that you are starting to have "usual" things!), you've been traveling a lot. It's exciting to see how connected you are to your far-flung family -- you're really starting to seek out relationships with your grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins. At least once or twice a week, you'll ask, unprompted, that we call (or Skype!) a specific relation. You've video-chatted more in the last month than we ever had before and are mastering the cross-country rendition of "Itsy Bitsy Spider."

You in the garden of your new house

Your pretending continues apace. You invented a game with mommy last night where you gathered a "suitcase," kissed every living and stuffed inhabitant of the living room with a "bye-bye," and then crawled behind the armchair to be on your "airplane." Then you would arrive and repeat the process, over and over.

The gap behind the armchair has become a favorite pretending spot. It can be your "house" or "airplane," or just a cozy hideout -- or a hundred other things to come, probably.

Even after just a few weeks, you are thriving in the new house. You love the garden where we've found bugs and worms, dig holes, and picked flowers and even a couple of January blackberries. (Imagine that, you Midwestern relations!) You're also sleeping through the night pretty consistently, and although that started before the move, the new place seems to be contributing. It's certainly quieter up here on our little street, and the air is probably cleaner, too.

We've talked about the language thing before, but your vocabulary becomes more and more uncanny. At least a few times a week you come out with a new word -- often in a long sentence -- and we just don't know where the heck you got it. Of course, you've got favorite words, too. "Boys" comes to mind (also one of your mom's faves at that age, interestingly), and now "marching" (from your new favorite song), "pretty dress," "bless you mommy," and "there ya go daddy."

And soon -- in just a month -- you will be two years old. Enjoy this last month of your oneness! We know we will.

We love you very, very much,

Mommy & Daddy

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Here's this month's slideshow. If you can't see the pictures down there, click this link.

Baby with a cellphone

Fern has figured out how to take a picture with Graham's phone, turn it around, and squeal at the results. Her latest photoessay follows.

Dear Fern (Part XXII)

Dear Fern,

New adjectives flooded into your vocabulary this month. You asked for the first time to wear a "pretty dress," and you describe things with words we're sure we never taught you on purpose: "fuzzy," "heavy," "cozy," "chilly," and countless others. Whenever you hit on an invented phrase that makes sense, you get really excited. "Cheese sandwich bacon" came to you one day: you know about cheese, you know about sandwiches, you love bacon, so putting them together gives you the ideal food!

Sentences are also interesting you. "I-want" is an easy construction, but you're also trying out some more complicated turns of phrase, like "I-no-like-it" and "Push-you-on-belly-swing." The record long sentence so far is "Let-me-I-want-touch-water-please." You tell jokes, too, usually about farting.

 
You picked the outfit yourself!

We're not sure when, exactly, but you have started to "pretend." It began with flying like a bird by flapping your arms -- that may be from your music class -- and has progressed to full-blown tea parties with tiny Play-Doh cups, saucers, and petit fours.

As always, you're really active, quite the dancer. The guitar player who sits and entertains outside our playground didn't used to excite you all that much, but now as long as he's playing something with a beat you're happy. And your acrobatics are progressing apace -- you can hardly see a horizontal bar without wanting to hang from it.

Group activities are starting to interest you more and more. The other day, you led a gaggle of toddlers in a mad game of Ring-Around-The-Rosey that left your dad with torn jeans and bruises. And you like leading: you love to encourage other kids to follow you places, although you usually move on once they're there. (You're a little disappointed, we think, if they don't show up!) The pursuit, it seems, is more important than the destination.

You still love bugs and worms, but lately you've insisted on showing all your discoveries to other people. Your preference is "kids" -- you must think that adults don't need to see another caterpillar -- and especially older boys. Maybe we're projecting, but we think you're proud that you can gently hold (and pet and caress and kiss) a worm that even the big, weapon-wielding boys are a little leery of.

We're moving this month -- today, in fact -- to a neighborhood closer to hiking trails and into a house with a backyard, but a bit farther away from the friends you've made down here. The loss of that community is sad, in a way, but we'll hold on to many of the friends we've made here, and we see a lot of good coming out of the challenge to take on a new playground and make new friends. Given how engaged, how verbal, how active you've been this month, we can only assume that you'll be hit the new neighborhood like a freight train!

We love you very, very much,

 

Mommy & Daddy

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Here's this month's slideshow. If you can't see the pictures down there, click this link.

Dear Fern (part XXI)

Dear Fern,

Stomping Puddles

You turn 21 months old today, and like anyone turning 21, you are torn between two of life's great stages. Sometimes you'll eat an entire bowl of cereal with a spoon and cut up food with the side of a fork, and the same day you'll ask for your string cheese to be broken into pieces for you. You can count to twenty on a good day, but if you're not in the mood we can't entice you even to say "two."

So -- baby or little girl? You be the judge.

Last week, you were playing catch with your mom, rolling a ball back and forth across the floor. The next day, you grabbed her hand and told her to "Sit!" Then you went and got the ball, sat down across from her, and resumed your game. Sounds like little girl to me!

Three seems to be your favorite age in a playmate. If you find a willing kid in the three- to four-year old set, you'll disappear with her to collect rocks, dance ring-around-the-rosey, or draw with sidewalk chalk. You prefer that us parents keep our distance when you sequester one of these older buddies, so you'll run off with your buddy where you think we can't see you. Then again, if you're playing with someone your own age, you seem to like a parent or two around to perform our necessary swing-pushing or bug-finding roles.

You're still full of baby joy, too: a good tickle-fest or tumble can make your day, and you love to cuddle. On the other hand, you seem to be developing a fakey posed smile that you whip out whenever we say "cheese" with camera in hand.

Winter seems to be bringing out the little girl in you, too. On our first rainy day, you insisted that we go get you rain boots and a jacket and, after months of hearing about it from your friends, you finally stomped in a puddle for the first time.

Words keep coming, and you're starting to put them together into sentences. Some of your new phrases we'd sort of rather you didn't shout about, too -- it's great that you correctly identify "Arf-Arf Poop," but do you have to do it so often? Deep down, I think you know you're being a little mischievous.

Maybe baby, maybe little girl. A lot of both, probably, and we're hardly the ones to say. We'll just close with this exhortation, and it's probably not the last time you'll hear this: we sure hope you don't rush to grow up. Getting older is empowering, but being a baby is pretty fun, too!

We love you very, very much,

 

Mommy & Daddy

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Here's this month's slideshow. If you can't see the pictures down there, click this link.

Breakfast with the Family

We made Fern a calendar (her first Day Planner!) with little stickers letting her know who she's seeing and what she's doing each week. She seems to like it, but especially the stickers part. Today, for example, she wanted to have breakfast with the entire family and quite a few friends.

Guests For Breakfast

(Ken, Jewel, Ali, Luke, Mark, and quite a few more of you are hidden only because you're on a sleeve or right on the high chair. Trust me, you're all there!)

Dear Fern (part XX)

Dear Fern,

I Can Figure It Out!

You turn twenty months old today. To celebrate, you called your mom on her way home from work and talked to her for ten solid minutes, mostly without repeating yourself. You sang her some songs, recited your ABCs and counted to ten; you told her "I love you" and mentioned that there was a ball and there was a bird. And, whenever your dad asked if he could have the phone back, you said simply "No," and chatted with your mom some more.

This month again has been all about language. You are starting to put words together in surprising ways, and you're always trotting out new vocabulary we never taught you: "mushroom," for example, came tonight, and "office" yesterday. We had started a list of the words you know, but we gave up quickly; it's just too hard to track. Your pronunciation is improving in leaps and bounds, too. Until this month, we were the only ones who could understand most of your words. Now, more often than not, Fern-language resembles English closely enough for strangers to understand.

You've started singing on your own without prompting -- "just for fun," it seems. You have some favorites: "Eensy Weensy Spider," naturally, and a chant from your music class, "Hey Ya Na." Once, you obligingly sang the theme from Love Boat to show off to your dad's stay-at-home dad friend. Like any campfire singer, though, you don't need to know many of the words before you're ready to hum along to almost anything.

Your First Best Friend

Your best friend Erwan started school this month, and although you suffered his absence well, you still ask for him several times a day. Once, thinking you saw him at the park, a giant smile spread across your face as you nodded and shouted his name. Having had a friend like him, it seems to be easier for you to make new friends; you're learning the names of your regular park playmates and even seem to know how best to play with each one.

As always, you love figuring things out and have an amazing ability to focus. You managed to untie the farm gate at the zoo last week as a bemused zookeeper looked on. You clip your stroller belts, climb up the kitchen stool, unscrew container tops (which can be dramatic and wet) and dig up roly-polies. Driven to discover, you're also prone to frustration more than ever. You seem to have realized that you will someday be able to do everything we adults can, and when that day isn't today, you can get frustrated. You don't have frequent tantrums, exactly: it's more like you're upset that the world isn't quite under your control. (Yet.)

You're obsessed with water, tunnels, stickers, animals, bugs, and shoes.

Your mom started taking you to a circus arts class where you love swinging on the trapeze ("peez") and running on the trampoline, crashing into a pile of mats at the end. Before starting this class, you learned to climb ladders on your own. And, for some time now, your favorite trick at the park has been to hang from the bar at the top of the slide, raise your feet up, and swing back and forth. Willa, your new friend, learned to do the same after watching you, and her grandma claims that she is now more daring on the play structure because of you! You're one tough kid.

You're living a mile a minute these days; it's as much as we can do just to keep up!

We love you very, very much,

Mommy & Daddy

 

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Here's this month's slideshow. If you can't see the pictures down there, click this link.

Reunited Video

Hey, all! As you may know, Fern's best friend Erwan started a full-time pre-school this month, so we don't get to see as much of them as we used to. After a week apart, we finally got them together for an after-school treat at Peet's the other day and the kids were, to put it mildly, overjoyed. So much so that we let them roll around in a spot we probably otherwise would have avoided rolling around in. (You'll notice E's mom removing a cigarette butt mid-way through!)

If you can't see the video below, or if you want to see it bigger, click here for the full-sized page. 

 

Reunited!

Dear Fern (part XIX)

Dear Fern,

You're a summer girl.

Sunset Girl

As grown-ups -- and even more, as San Franciscans -- we've forgotten, a little, what summer is for. Thanks to you, we're starting to rediscover that...

Summer is for the Sun

You love getting outside to "piay!" every day. We've been discovering and rediscovering outdoor adventures spots: the beach, the Discovery Museum, and new playgrounds. We're out for a good part of almost every day of this unusually fog-free summer. The bright sun has finally taught you to love hats and sunglasses -- two items you formerly saw mostly as peek-a-boo toys, or earlier than that, things to chew briefly and then ignore.

Summer is for Ice Cream

Another newfound love. Your mom took you for your first honest-to-goodness full-on ice cream cone this month, and it's a full-body experience: you lick the cream from the cone, stick your fingers into it, lick them a bit, bite the cream, and then crunch the cone. For future reference: you far prefer the cone to the cup, the cake cone to the sugar cone, and your favorite flavor is coffee. (Yeah, great.)

Summer is for Acrobatics

Swingin' Girl

Just when we thought you could have some independent playground time, you started climbing ladders. Big ladders, too, the ones the four-year olds have trouble with. You've always liked hanging from the monkey bars, and now you swing from the bar at the top of the slide, giggling at the panicked looks on our faces. And you love tumbling. Somersaults are an old favorite, and just the other day, you put your head on the ground, locked your knees, and just stood there, like an ostrich about to do a headstand. Your buddy Erwan thought it looked cool, so he tried it right away, and suddenly there you were, two baby butts in the air, like a miniature yoga class.

Summer is for Junk Food

Your food tastes have swung toward carbohydrates, so we have to work a little harder to keep you eating enough fruits and vegetables. Luckily, you're still a nut for avocados, and you love to eat berries off the vine. (I even pretended to pick store-bought berries from a tree, and you loved that, except that then I had to pretend to pick avocado, cantaloupe, pears, and rice cake from that same tree. Hm.)

Summer is for Goofiness

Goofy Girl

Your mom and I are curious about the nature and nurture debate as it applies to goofiness. Because boy, are you evah. Your mom had you at the market the other day and you repeated "Loodleoodleoodleoodleoodleloo" for 25 solid minutes, apparently just because you like the way it makes your tongue feel. You also tackle us out of nowhere (I think maybe Erwan taught you that one), smoosh your face up against the French doors, and make silly faces just to prove you can.

But summer is coming to an end and so, alas, is your 19th month. Erwan is going to school full time soon, so we won't have as many outings with our buddy. You are starting to draw quite a lot and getting excited about longer books with fewer pictures, so we can spend more time on (for lack of a better word) "intellectual" pursuits.

As we speed along the last half of your second year, you're establishing and communicating your personality more loudly every day. Sometimes that fills the days with challenges, but more often your burgeoning individuality is just fun, fun, fun to watch.

We love you very much,

Mommy & Daddy

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Here's this month's slideshow. If you can't see the pictures down there, click this link.

Dear Fern (part XVIII)

Dear Fern,

bunny ear baby

Buttons!

You're a year and a half old today, and we're going to call this one "manipulation month." I mean that in every sense: you're making connections between cause and effect at an increasingly sophisticated level, but that also means you're learning that you can make us react when you make demands of us.

You've had your first real tantrums this month. Nothing major -- a few minutes here or there when you didn't get your way -- but we're trying our best to teach you that tantrums are not a tool. You got a timeout this week, a minute by yourself in your high chair in the kitchen, and, astoundingly, it worked. Your mom and I are also practicing our toddler communication skills: we acknowledge that you WANT something at your level and at your volume, even as we let you know you can't have it. To our surprise again, that also seems to work.

Those challenges are still few and far between, though, punctuation marks to huge stretches of development that amaze your mom and me daily.

• You love to put things away in their proper place. For what I'm sure is the last time in a decade or more, we can come into a room where you've been playing and find it neater than it was before.
  
• While rocking you to sleep, your mommy asked you to close your eyes, so you reached up and closed them with your finger.
  
• You've begun noticing when Carson the cat's food or water bowl is empty and ask to help fill it. You squat next to her bowl, scoop up some kibble, dump (most of) it into the bowl, pick up the pieces that scatter on the ground, and hand feed them to her, all the while scrunching your face up in great concentration. We're not quite ready to let you loose with the water pitcher!
  
• You've quickly become an expert "babysittee." You lead your babysitter around the playground, telling her it's time to play on the swings now, but now it's time to look for bugs... she reports that you don't give her a minute's rest! 
  
• You really recognize your friends now, too, like your park buddy Erwan. You can say his name, and you know how to entice him into a game of "crash" or buddy-sliding.
  
• What began as a few scribbles has turned into a real passion for any kind of marking device on any markable surface. (Thank goodness for washable crayons.)

And so at eighteen months we find you a confident, excited, personable baby, turning quickly into a little girl who makes new discoveries and embarks on fresh adventures with each passing day.

Keep it up!

We love you very, very much,

Mommy & Daddy

Dear Fern (part XVII)

Dear Fern,

In your seventeenth month, you decided to trust the members of your extended village.

One afternoon you went to the playground with your Aunt Morgan and Uncle Luke. You see them in pictures all the time, but they live in Chicago so you haven't gotten to enjoy them since Christmas. No matter, though -- you pulled them into the swings and up the slide without a thought to how far away your mom and dad were. After all, aunties and uncas are just as good at playing Up! Whee! Watwa! as your more familiar relations! You got cozy like that with a lot of folks lately... our old friend Angie, your Uncle Greg, and dozens of others in our extended circle.

This month, you invented a somewhat credible "run." From your bouncy toddle you roll up onto the balls of your feet -- cue parent anxiety here --, throw all your weight to one side -- we swallow hard --, catch yourself with a toe, overbalance and nearly topple before you land the other foot -- that pounding noise is just our hearts --, and thus canter on in a barely controlled careen, as if you're sliding down a hill that's just a little too steep to walk.

Sometimes -- OK, a lot of times -- you take a tumble. Mostly, you aren't bothered a bit, and we're pretty proud of your solidness. Maybe because we always roughhoused with you, you seem to regard upside down and sideways as perfectly legitimate attitudes. When a random playground mom fusses over you after a fall, you usually give her a sort of pitying look, as if to say "Get over it!"

You concentrate really intensely. On a plane this month, you spent twenty minutes opening and shutting the window shades. The first day you figured out that you could autonomously climb the stairs, sit, and go down the slide, you repeated it about thirty times. Unfortunately, this focus comes out best with novel experiences: anything you've already accomplished (like, say, eating) tends to take a back seat to your thirst to explore more.

Oh, one last thing: you learned to brush stray strands of hair from your face this month. We expect you'll perfect this gesture over the next few years while we have control over your hair, until that sad future day when you'll crop it short as a rebellious teenager.

So your seventeenth month ends today, and as we enter the last month of your first sesquiannum, it's getting harder to call you "the baby." You talk and act more like a little girl, and although we miss your infant helplessness, we're excited by each new accomplishment, which these days come pretty much daily.

We love you very, very much,


Mommy & Daddy

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If you can't see the slide show, click here.

Happy Father's Day!

Another post from Kristin...

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As you’ve probably figured out, blogging has become more and more difficult as Fern has gotten older—for one, she’s become more attuned to the camera, often wanting to use it herself in the same way that she wants to use our cell phones (not advised, by the way, as I recently discovered when my cell phone crashed to the floor as she dropped it from her high chair—thank goodness for cell phone insurance!).

For another, if she spies a computer in use, she also wants that for her own purposes of tickling Elmo, making it difficult for us to complete our own tasks.

Her technophilia is only one of many ways in which she’s following in daddy’s footsteps … she also loves digging in the sand for crabs and dipping her toes in the ocean. Next thing we know, she’ll be saving seals and blogging on her own. What will she write?!

Dear Fern (part XVI)

Dear Fern,

We're going to call this the "month of parlor tricks."

There's probably a more technically precise term from the field of child development for the astounding leaps you're making, but since we don't know the correct nomenclature, we're sticking with "parlor tricks." Or maybe "baby vaudeville" because it's so fun to have you perform in front of our friends and playmates. Here's what you can do, mostly new this month:

• The Animal Sounds Game. Impress your friends by giving correctly and in succession the correct sounds for cat, dog, sheep, owl, donkey, elephant, snake, and lion!
• Do You Wanna Rock?! When we say this, you throw up your arms and we all say "Let's Rock!" Even better is when we start out like we're with Metallica: "Hey, Cleveland! DO! YOU! WANNA! ROCK?!"
• Find the Body Part. You successfully locate your head, eyes, nose, mouth, teeth, ears, shoulders, belly button, hands, knees, feet, and toes.
• POILs (Phrases of Impressive Length). You say "olive oil" and "belly button" (in addition to some 45 other fairly typical words). We're working on "meritocracy," "ambulate," and "self-immolation."
• Clap Your Hands, Stomp Your Feet. Thanks to Music Together classes, you clap, stomp, drum, strum, and hum on command.
• Please and Thank You. We've got you using the signs for "please" and "thank you" and you're picking up the spoken word "pweez" -- often even on your own. We're not positive you really know what "please" means, but then again, does anyone really know what "please" means?
• Playground Tricks. Since you're an old hand at the playground, you've picked up a few stunts that seem impressive for a 16-month old but are simply habit: hanging and dropping from the monkey bars, doing somersaults, belly-swinging by yourself, and digging for bugs.

So it's been a banner month for your development. We'd be guilty of evasion if we didn't mention the downside to that: we've just come off a week where you had a few horrible sleep nights -- up every other hour, sometimes not falling asleep until the double-digit PMs, and getting only 10 hours of shuteye some days, when 13 or more was your average. Such sleep disturbance, some of the "experts" say, can be a sign of a growth spurt of mind or body.

Thankfully, though, the brief sleepless phase seems to have passed, and you're back to your previous pattern, which was becoming more and more regular. We're going to chalk up the anomaly to a surge of growth and learning.

So here you are, one-and-a-third years old. It seems like it won't be too much longer before you'll be writing these blog entries on your own. Your mom and I are just starting to get the first "gee-you're-not-a-tiny-baby-anymore" pangs, but nevertheless: We can hardly wait for what's to come!

We love you very, very much,

 

Mommy & Daddy.