I can't believe that you're half way through being a two-year-old already. It was just September. It was just last March when you were only one and still my baby.
You're having a rough week, my little one. I'm not sure if the time change is throwing you for a loop, or if you are worried about the selection of the new Pope...but something has been off. Your fuse is very short, and you've been demanding a lot of time and attention. It's both frustrating and sad to watch you be so grumpy all the time.
This afternoon you were very upset when I wouldn't let you drink out of a purple cup because you already had a pink cup filled with fresh juice. You lost your mind when we turned the news on after dinner because you wanted to watch a movie. (Again, is it the Pope thing? Don't worry. They found a new one.)
You've been completely testing limits with every passing moment. If we tell you not to do something, you just do it faster.
You were helping me cook dinner tonight, (Which means you stand on the step-stool next to me and grab all the spoons out of the silverware drawer.) and I started singing along to some Disney song that came on the radio. With enough sass and attitude to make Regina George proud, you said, "Mumma you can't sing like Rapunzel. You're not a princess." Well excuse me, Miss Maddie Bear.
I guess it's just part of being two and growing up. Maybe you're having a growth spurt?
Part of this problem is that you've developed a sudden fear of the dark, and therefore, are not getting enough sleep. You've never been one to resist bedtime. Although it often takes you a long time to fall asleep, you've always been very satisfied with some alone time.
Last night, however, you got so scared that you went into hysterics when I tried to leave the room. You wrapped your little arms around my neck so tightly when I tried to comfort you that it made my heart hurt.
Not knowing how to handle this new phase, I tried a lot of different things. After your tears had subsided, I let you come down stairs for a few minutes to get a drink and try to talk to you. You told me, "I'm scared of night-nights." When I asked why, you said, "I don't know." I let you keep your light on for a little while hoping you would nod off. You did not. I finally convinced you that it was okay to turn the light back off, but you didn't fall asleep until way past your bedtime.
Tonight, you started to get upset when I got up to leave the room after we finished our bedtime stories, but I turned on uour special fairy lamp. I told you to watch it from your bed. So far it's working. Knock on wood.
Yet, in spite of the new challenges you're throwing at us, you really are just so much fun. You are so proud of your accomplishments. I asked you to put away a bag of lemons for me tonight, and you took the job very seriously. "Okay. Okay. All we have to do, Mumma...put dem in here."
The other day you asked if you could close the bathroom door while we were brushing our teeth. "I did it!" you cried. And then, "Thanks for letting me, Mumma!" as if closing the door is such an important job.
I often get caught up in the excitement too. I'm so proud of you, Madeline.
You've been open to trying new foods again. The other night we actually got you to eat a few bites of salmon. It might be because we told you the name of the food was "pink."
And my goodness you are so, so smart. Your vocabulary continues to astound me. You observe everything around you. Walking down the hallway at daycare the other afternoon, you pointed at a letter on the wall and proudly stated that it's the first letter of your last name. Your former infant teacher was standing nearby, and it totally blew her away. "What two-year-old knows that?" she asked.
You've started making up your own song lyrics. It's hilarious. We've heard lyrics about lying in bed with Olaf and Huggy. There was one with the lyrics, "In my life. I'm going to run away." That had me worried. Two nights ago, we heard, "Katie Belle is so smart and beautiful." Sweet.
I think you've inherited Dada's musical genes.
Also, I'm ready to officially make the call that you're a lefty. You've been favoring the left hand for a long time, but it's so hard to tell. Now that you are learning to hold crayons and pens properly, it's becoming clear that you almost always use your left hand. Both your grandparents on your father's side are lefties, so it must have skipped a generation. Our little southpaw.
I feel like your childhood is slipping through our fingers ever more rapidly. I'm so worried that I'm taking it for granted. I'm trying very hard, dear baby girl, to appreciate every moment that you cling to my ankles crying. Cause someday soon, it'll be the other way around. "Please, please, please stay home and watch Rapunzel with us, Madeline."
I love you sweetest girl.