15th Month

As usual, this is a bit late. Just know that my intentions were right on time.

Dear Sarah,

It seems like I turned my back on you for just a second and when I turned back around to see what you were fussing about, you had transformed into a miniature human being. A very demanding human, but definitely a person in a very small body whose wants, needs, likes and dislikes are loudly declared. The strangest thing is that I never imagined that life with a dictator could be so much fun.



In the past month, you've taken your love of music to a new level. You now let me know which song you'd like to hear. "EIEIEI" means you want to hear Old MacDonald. "AAAAA" means you want to hear the ABC Alphabet song. Spinning your hands around in circles means that you want to hear the Wheels On The Bus. When I start singing the song that you've selected, you nod your head with satisfaction and grin. Sometimes, you even sing along. One afternoon when I stopped to pick you up from daycare, you didn't see me come into the play yard. All of the kids were in a circle quietly listening to one of the teachers sing - except for one kid. That little girl was standing off to the side, out of formation, singing at the top of her lungs - "AAaaAAaaahhhaaaahhhaa".



There's also a new obsession in your life - moths. Yes, moths. Not colorful butterflies or sparkly dragonflies. You want to see silent, grey moths. You tilt your head back everywhere we go, say "moth", and start scanning for possible sightings. You are the Moth Hunter. When we find one resting on a wall or up in the corner of a ceiling, I reach up and give it a brush. When it flies off, you track it's movement closely until it stops at the next resting place. Then, we repeat the process. You never tire of the hunt, but it's very important that whoever is hunting with you tilt their head back and look closely with you. It isn't any fun if you're the only one looking. I'm not discouraging this love of yours, but I'm desperately trying to figure out how moth research will work into a Nobel Prize nomination.



Mealtime is yet another opportunity to let us know what you do and do not want. You've made it clear that you don't want to sit in your high chair anymore. So, now, you get to sit in a booster seat at the table like a civilized creature - if civilized creatures smeared Cream Of Wheat on their eyelashes and stuffed peas in their milk. You ask for "more" when you're still hungry and you nod your head and say "no, no, no!" even before I put any form of meat on your plate. Yup. You still refuse to eat meat. I'm not sure what brought out the militant vegetarian in you, but I'm beginning to suspect that my daily consumption of three pound steak burritos while pregnant might have had something to do with it. I'm not worried about your health though. Like a good Californian, you eat slabs of protein rich tofu. If this trend continues, I bet it won't be long before you're striding around in flip-flops, perfecting yoga poses and slurping down sushi before heading out to catch some gnarly waves. Please, just no belly piercings or cryptic Asian tattoos on your back. Oh my gosh! Did I just write that? I've become the dreaded parent! OK. How about only small nose piercings and tattoos that I can decipher in places that can be covered but when uncovered won't get you arrested?



Sweet Sarah, this little letter can never convey the incredible transformations that I see in you every day. You are exploding with ability and personality. I can't believe how far you've come and how much I'm enjoying this time with you. I hope your voice is always as clear and sure as it is today.



Thank you for filling me with a joy that tickles my soul.



Love,
your mama