The only child

Dear Allegra,

Today, you are our only child.  First, it was just your Daddy and me.  We were just the two of us for four years, and then you came along and made three.  And for the past two years, now there are three of us.  A Mama, a Daddy, a Baby.  But you are a big girl now, and a new baby is on his way.  Things are about to change, but for today, it is still just us.  I love us.

You are slowly losing your baby talk.  You love to sing, and you make these crazy mashed up versions of Christmas songs and nursery rhymes that make us all laugh so hard in the car (Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree, have you any wool?).  You love eating family dinner with your Daddy and me, mainly because you also love family kazzert, which comes afterwards.  You happen to love the K sound right now, so you eat kamanas, wear kanjamas, and have karretts in your hair today.

Some things you used to love, though, you have decided that you really don't like.  For instance, sirens. You were all about adventures (avensis) and emergencies (mer-GENCE) this summer, but now you get really scared when an ambulance drives by the house.  Every night you thank Jesus that He protects you and Baby Luke from the sirens, and also from Santa.

Oh, Santa.  We met him in the city last weekend, when your Daddy's plan to take you to see the Christmas lights at Hartwood Acres went horribly wrong.  We had hyped it up like crazy in order to keep the 45 minute car drive interesting...and then found ourselves in the middle of a very dark, christmas-light-free forest.  For the first time in 20 years, the light show was cancelled.  We tried to take you to another street that had some decorated houses, but you weren't impressed.  So on a whim, Daddy headed into the city on the way back home and we stumbled upon a Christmas celebration complete with Santas house.  You didn't want anything to do with him, so instead of sitting on his lap, you sat on your Daddy's lap and we all got our picture taken together.  Later on that night, though, I found you standing by the tree, staring up at a little clay Santa ornament.  'Santa!  Will you bring me sumpin?'

You are also convinced that your Daddy will always keep you safe.  And this, my dear, is the truth - he will.  That man loves you more than life itself.

Soon, we will be a team of four.  Your brother (Baby Wook) is coming soon - within the next few days.  Things are about to change, a lot.  And change can be hard, even good change.  So we might have a few days when we aren't sure how to manage all the new, exciting parts of having a new family member.  Still, I am pretty sure that I will figure out how to be a good Mama to a little boy, and that you are going to be a great big sister.  We will learn how to love Luke just right, and how to be a family of four that is even better than our family of three.

School!

Today was your first day of daycare.  Your Daddy drove you there and stayed for a little while, but you hit the floor running and never looked back.  When he left, you were swimming in the pool having a ball.  Your teachers said you are only the second child they've ever had who cruised through their first day without a single tear.  You even took a nap.  When I came to pick you up a few hours later, I found you sitting in a play kitchen, cooking with Winnie the Pooh, happy as a clam.

We are impressed, but not surprised. This is your style.  You roll with things.  We may worry about how you will react to new situations, but we are almost always met with a smiling little girl who is more concerned about finding every American flag within eyeshot than about Mommy and Daddy not being around for a few hours.

You are 21 months old.  Can you picture how loved you are?  At this age, you love people, especially your family, our neighbor Mary, and her two sons Nick and Joe.  Actually, I'm pretty sure you have a crush on Nick.  He's in high school, so he's just a little too old for you, but he thinks you're pretty great too.  Manya, Neeek, and Doe, you say.


Other things you say that I love - poppyon (popsicle), buhfye fap fap fap (butterfly, flap flap flap!), fesh band (the fresh beat band - your tv show), swiminnapool! (self-explanatory), meycon fwag (american flag), ya run! (your answer to 'what did you do today?'), bus n na car (your answer to 'what did you dream about?').  Your little words warm my heart.  Every day you pronounce things better, and as I am excited to see you grow, I will still miss your baby talk.

Things change so quickly.  The days are long, but the weeks, the months, the years, are short.  They fly by, and suddenly you are saying 'self' and taking your toothbrush out of my hand and brushing away.  You are growing up.  It's miraculous.


I don't have too much more to say today except to remind you of the temperament God gave you and what that means.  You are adaptable and friendly, loving and verbal, and you bring joy to everyone you meet.  These things have been true of you since the day you were born, placed in you forever by the One who made you.   Don't ever forget who you are.  We are so proud of you.

Who we are today

Dear Miss Allegra, you are 16 months old!  You change so very quickly and move even quicker.  I can barely capture you on film anymore - you're a blur of motion and energy and sound.  I love these days.  Let's remember them, shall we?

You are talking your own language lately.  Some of it I understand.  You make lots of animal noises (baa, bzzz, meow, neigh, woof)  You say nononono when I'm trying to feed you something you don't like.  You say dun-stah aka downstairs (which was maybe your first word after mama and dada), more, ball, zzzzip, meh (milk), buh-bye, hep (help). 

You sneak up to my computer with one finger outstretched, because you know you're not allowed to touch...but you want to, desperately.  You love to test limits.  You love people, hugging and snuggling; you love being involved in what's going on.  You climb up behind me when I'm sitting at the table working, stand up on the chair and turn my face around to look at you.  I don't get a whole lot done at home any more, but I'm totally okay with it.

You love it when people say "bless you" when you sneeze, so after it happens you usually fake sneeze several more times to get more 'bless you's'.  Your fake sneezes aren't very convincing, but we go along with it.

You are totally obsessed with outside noises like sirens and airplanes and snow blowers.  You stop and point to the window, and then we run to see if we can catch the culprit - a car driving by, a helicopter overhead, a bird on the bird feeder.  

You love music.  You stop whatever you're doing and start bopping up and down when you hear it, and if a song ends too quickly, you frantically make your "more" sign.  more more MORE, you say!  We sing head and shoulders, knees and toes and you try your best to find your shoulders. You do this dance with your left hand pumping in the air with one finger held up, like a yuppie disco gangster.  It is absolutely adorable. I do it too, and when we do it in the car, people think we're hilarious.  Hey, it's cool.  We ARE hilarious.

You're napping right now...just one nap a day most days.  Your daddy is running on our treadmill, training for his second marathon!  You'll be so proud when you realize how strong and amazing you have to be to run that far, and that your daddy's already done it once.  I'm going to sign the contract this weekend for my first real job as a neurologist.  When you realize how hard that is, you'll be proud of me, too.  You are made of some strong, smart stuff, little girl.  You've got a great life ahead of you, full of whatever dreams you want to follow.  We're already proud of you, and there's nothing you can do or not do to change that.  Just so you know.

That's who and where we all are on this Saturday morning in February.  We are together and rich and warm.  We are very blessed

Hug attack

Your Daddy loves to "hug attack" you these days, especially since you have this great reaction to his sudden scooping you up and growling like a bear and hugging you close.  You squeal and laugh and scrunch your face up in this adorable smile.  It's crazy how much we love that smile.  We do ridiculous things to see it.

You also love to hug.  Your balance is still tentative, though, so it's easiest for you to hug adults.  You run into my arms and throw all of your weight onto me, and we hug.  I love your sweet hugs.  They make my day.

A few weeks ago, though, you decided to wage your own hug - attacks on some unsuspecting kids who you met at the playground.  You ran up and threw yourself at them...and knocked them right on their butts.  You went down, too, and the two of you briefly sat in a little heap until the other kid got up and ran, crying, to his parent.  But not you, you sat there grinning, very proud of the hugs you gave out.  And I sat there, grinning too, totally proud of my little loving bruiser.  You're a tough, cautiously fearless, completely friendly little girl.

Soon, we'll have to teach you an sad truth about life; that not everybody likes hugs, and that you can't just hug somebody when you feel like it.  Ugh, I'm sorry that's true, but it is.  But I hope you never lose this exuberance, that you keep loving people like you do now.  I love these things about you.

Love, your Mama