Monday, August 27, 2012

Dear Peanut: Toddler Days

All photos courtesy of Water Street Dreams

My little man,

These toddler days are such a paradox of sorts. There are times like last Saturday, when you woke up babbling happily. I laid on the couch and you came over with a picture book and laid right next to me, all snuggled in, and I could kiss your golden head and smile at all your expressions. I love how you express affection now.

There's times like last night, when my brother was listening to Old Crow Medicine Man on Spotify and inspired me to as well. As soon as I clicked play you grinned and started bopping up and down. You've been a bluegrass kid since you were a newborn! I turned it up and for 15 minutes we laughed and danced and it was a momma-Judah little party. You're so much fun at this stage, with giggles and delight and exploration and showing off new tricks. Rambunctious is a great word for it.

On the other hand, there's days like today, when you woke up crying and it felt like you whined all morning long until blessed nap time. Days like today we can't get a moment's peace, for serious. If we sit on the toilet you want to sit in our lap! I might be trying to drain a pot of boiling pasta and you're at my feet, arms around my legs, crying to get up. Attempting to do makeup is equally miserable.

The toddler days are interesting, because if you're joyful you spread joy everywhere, and if you're miserable it's a good fight for everyone else not to be miserable too.


Thank goodness for nap time, where you can reset from a fussy morning and when you wake up I'll come get you, again, with open arms. And off you'll go, because when you're energized you have a strong dose of my independent exploring tendencies. It'll be an evening of hyper giggles in contrast the a miserable morning, and I'll wonder if we're all schizophrenic.

 I have to say, you're a bit of a hick kiddo now. Half the time you're not matching, you're usually barefoot (even at restaurants and stores) and you're into ..... everything. It's partly our fault, partly your own, but I apologize that you've inherited our tendency to be a few steps out of mainstream. I'm proud too, though, because you are yourself and an individual, and not yet a teenager that can be embarrassed about it!

 I love you, fiercely. I feel this increasing internal pressure to make the switch we're moving towards so that I'm home with you, and mornings when you're awake and I have to say goodbye just kill me. I pray for you, and for your dad and I, that we would shepherd your heart well and that you would grow to be a man who loves God deeply so that it overflows in love and joy to all those around you. How do I do this in small ways in these toddler years?

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