Dang girl. Where has the time gone? You’re growing up too fast.
Or to Oh my God her father just had a stroke. I hope it was a funny aneurysm.
I think it’s amazing that you’re now talking in complete sentences. You use this skill to tattle quite efficiently. “Sisser tooka ball from me!” “Sisser smacked my head anna we say, ‘NO SMACKS!'” You definitely have figured out how to make your needs known telling us over and over again, ‘I nodda tired! I no needa gotabeeeeddd!’ and “Snack pwease. Ree-nay a like da uhhh fish crackers and uhhhh frogen yerk (frozen yogert) and uhhhh the pop!sicle!!”
You’ve always been a social kid, but lately you’re really into your peers. You get excited when you hear that Marion Ross or DJ Qualls is coming to visit. You love it. You love screaming and laughing and mimicing them. You love chasing them and stealing their toys. They don’t think it’s a wonderful as you do, but you are in heaven.
I’ve also noticed that you’re no shrinking violet when it comes to standing up for yourself. Shrieking violet, yes. Shrinking violet, no. You will go all 10 rounds, matching their screams and protests decibel for decibel. If you have to climb over their heads to reclaim what is rightly yours then you will. I would be lying for propriety’s sake if I said that I was mortified at your behavior. On the contrary I am very proud of you. I know it’s a pain in the ass for other parents, and I know we get looks, but I don’t care. You’re not mean, but you are a fighter. You’re not one easily put off. Those are good things. Especially for a girl.
And speaking of being a girl. You’re having a little bit of an issue with your name. You’re Labia. Or, if you’re feeling your Irish heritage, O’ Labia. I think it’s funny. Your daddy is mortified which makes it even funnier to me. “We can’t let her run around and call herself that.” Oh, I think we can.
You’re also into spelling and drawing and love nothing more than when I get out a poster board and the markers. True to your personality you cover every. inch. of the poster in wild, manic circles. “Dat’s O’Labia’s name. O I V I A. Dat’s O’ Labia’s name.” I don’t know what you have against poor L. L must have pissed you off royaly once upon a time because you’re always avoiding him. You tell me, “Draw Bob Bob Pants (Spongebob Squarepants),” and “Draw Padrick ovva de starfeesh.” And cats sleeping. Cats sitting. Cats in the ocean. And when I do you’re always ready with a very sincere, “Good job, Mommy! Good job!” and, “It’s booiful, Mommy! Just booiful!” That makes me happy too. It makes me think that you hear a lot of encouragement and it’s become a part of your make up.
You know that you belong in this family of freaks and you seem okay with that. You love your sissers and worry about them when we drop them off at their friends’ homes or soccer practice. “Where’s my Amy goin’ Mommy?” “Don’t forget my Amelia, Mommy!” You’re not entirely content until they’re back home with you where they belong because they’re yours. You own their asses. Really all you want is to be a big kid like them and will follow them around imitating their gestures and the inflection of their voices. That isn’t always a good thing since they delight in getting you to say inappropriate things like, “Sinner!” and “Let’s get our drink on!” and “My butt smells funny!” I think you’re going to be mighty mighty sad when they go back to school and you’re stuck with boring old me who’s always hanging out on the Internet. (That’s not all bad though. Did you watch that Duran Duran video I posted?!)
There are things I wish you’d outgrow, like the desire to be naked. To answer the door naked. To eat naked. To run around in the front yard and swing around the flag pole naked. I’m looking forward to you giving into peer pressure and embracing the whole going in the potty thing that all the kids are doing these days. I’m looking forward to the day when you’ll stop peeling off your pull ups during nap or bed time and hiding them. But I am dreading the day that I become ‘Mom’ instead of ‘Mommy.’ The day that you’re the one who stops hugging first. The day when you don’t need me anymore. The day when I am no longer the center of your universe.
You’re an awesome kid who has completed this whacked out family, and whenever you do something so utterly adorable and cool I feel compelled to elbow your father and whisper, “And that’s the one you didn’t want.” *
We love you! Happy 2 and 1/2 El Chunko!
*and before you call your therapist, he wanted you honey, he just didn’t want to do what it took to get you because he was “tired” and “stressed about work” and “not really turned on by the fact that I [sic] hadn’t shaved my legs in a few weeks days.