Dear Two Year Old,
Life with you these days is fairly predictable, in that you’ll throw a fit at least twice a day. You’ll see from the 1 Second videos from February that you’re in your terrible twos. There is no pattern to what will set you off it seems. You’re in a big Mommy stage right now- not wanting me to be near you, wanting only Mommy to read your books or dress you or put you in your crib. Sometimes, you and I are playing well and then you’ll suddenly turn on me and not want to have anything to do with me.
You are potty trained! It happened so quickly and accident-free; Mommy and I are so pleased. It started with peeing on the potty, which required singing “Let it Go” from Disney’s Frozen. There was a span when you required us to play you the videos of Let it Go, For the First Time in Forever, Fixer Upper, and Love is an Open Door over and over until you were done on the potty. We also rewarded you with chocolate chips – 1 chocolate chip for peeing and 2 for pooping. Now, when we’re at home, you demand books to be read to you while on the potty. You finish quicker, and you forget about the chocolate chips. On special occasions, you get a Sean the Sheep or Mickey Mouse video.
You’ve got so many words now, the most frequent of them is “Why?” It is exhausting.
This weekend, when Nana and Poppop were here, you were sitting in your kitchen chair and asked, “What’s in my bum,” when you sat on the belt buckle.
On the couch, you exclaimed, “There’s a tunnel in my pants.” You must have exerted yourself at gymnastics to tear the stitching in your tights- sure enough- there was a hole where the panels connected.
When we’re at the dinner table together, you often ask, “How day, Mommy?”
You pretend to read, picking up books and, in a serious tone, randomly saying words….”One two, tree, Colorado, binky purple, Mommy, Boo, Tuesday, Kobeshau, Delfina, apple pie.”
Kobeshau. This word is uttered by you often, yet we have no idea what it means or where it came from. Kobeshau and “Colowado” are now Crosby-only words that continue to puzzle us. As I’m typing it in the computer, it is underlined in red dots because it isn’t recognized and there are no replacements. When I google it, there are no suggestions. We try to ask you what Kobeshau means, but then you use it when you respond to us. Is it your imaginary friend? Is it a spice that you sprinkle on the food we give you to help it taste better?
Here’s a conversation with you that involves Kobeshau.
Mommy’s favorite word from you these days is to-later. “No Mommy; I’ll do it “to-later.”
Here’s an audio from March 2016 – you’re 29 months – we’re looking at a sticker book.
Here are the last two months of 1 Second Everyday videos. We got some skiing in along with meals with friends and spontaneous outbursts of tears from you. There’s also a few shots of R2-D2, the tickling monster, some potty training memories, and the funeral for binky purple, which developed a hole and had to be laid to rest in the garbage can in January. You were very upset.
I want to tell you about a good book I just finished, A Thousand Hills to Heaven by Josh Ruxin. The author became interested in developing world service when he was in high school, when he visited famine-ravaged Ethiopia. He and his wife moved to Rwanda in 2004, 20 years after the genocide, where nearly a quarter of a million people were violently killed by Rwandan Hutus because of they were the enemy Tutse. Josh tells of his experiences working to create a Millennium Village, where efforts are concentrated to improve infrastructure and self-sufficiency for residents through NGO funds, in a poor area of Kegali, Rwanda.
When the 100-day genocide began on April 6, 1994, I was finishing my senior year in college and my last collegiate track season. I did not know that mobs were busting down doors of their own neighbors and brutally killing them, or setting up brutal checkpoints to exterminate those who were targeted. This topic is not fun to learn more about, but I’ve been suddenly fascinated with it since a guy who lived through the genocide visited our school and I read Josh Ruxin’s book. I hope something like this is never repeated.
Here is the YEAR 2015 in 1 Second Everyday.
I had a series of dreams this week that occurred in three key locations of my life. The first dream took place at the Watseka High School gym. I was playing basketball and had some mad skills, stealing the ball easily from the opponent and shooting and rebounding easily. A day later, I was on the Millikin campus in a RV camper that was in between some of the signature red-brick buildings. The ground started to shake and rumble, and an earthquake split open the earth, toppling the camper on its side. My friends and I in the camper were shaken up and bruised and cut, but we were all ok. I was the first one to be able to open up the door (which was now facing the sky), get out, and survey the damage. The third dream was here in Seattle. We were in our new house sitting on the couch. We heard some noises in the back yard and saw some kids stealing our grill accessories. Mommy told me to go after them, so I clambered outside without shoes or socks on in pursuit of the miscreants. They had enough of a head start to cross the busy street before I could follow them, so I had to wait for the light. When the light turned green, I tried to run, but could only spin my leg-wheels and was not able to make any ground on them. By the time I got through the intersection, they were out of sight and I wasn’t confident that I even knew where they had gone.
In the news these days is the 2016 presidential primary runs with Trump, Rubio, Kasich and Clinton and Sanders. I can’t remember a time when the Republican party has been more divided and the country more polarized – it is frightening. The Seattle dig has continued to tunnel a new state route 99, there looks like a cease fire to the fighting in Syria might be close, and Britian will vote whether to secede from the European Union in June.
We got word that the Great-Grandmas (97 and 98 years old) will be making another trip to Seattle this summer!
It’s time to go to work. I hear you murmuring. Love, Daddy