growing up—22 & 23 months

Dear Gideon,

You have been in our lives nearly two years, yet I find it hard to remember life without you. That part of my life just isn't as important anymore. You are what's important and my life has been forever altered because of you.

When I walk into the kitchen and see the door leading to the basement steps open, a little part of me panics. Even if you aren't home. It needs to be closed because of you. That's just the way we do it now. So much of the way our lives function on a day-to-day basis plays out in a lovely pattern because of you. Some days it is really tiring, but I can't imagine it any other way.

22 months—January 25, 2009

In less than a week you will be two and I feel a little guilty that I'm just now finishing your 22 & 23 month letter. I've had it started for many weeks, but time just seems to get away from me. As I've said before, I'm a terrible procrastinator and prefer to spend my time WITH you rather than writing a letter TO you. And when you are napping or in bed for the evening? Well, that's when your Dad and I do the chores around the house and spend a little time together. It's those sort of moments that have kept me from writing this letter for so long. That and the fact that I may just be a wee bit lazy.

I keep a small running list of cute things you do each month that I don't want to forget. Of course, many of the things you do never make it to the list since you are the epitome of cuteness every day. I can't write it all down. In the past couple of months you have done some things that make me want to squeeze the cute right out of you.


Your Dad started making a little puppet of sorts out of his hand during dinner to encourage you to eat your food. The hand would talk to you while picking up little bits of food and pretending to eat them. You thought that was great and even went as far as naming your new little friend out of the blue one day. You like to call him "Coch-coch"—like the word "coke" with a thick "ch" sound at the end.

You talk all the time but still have trouble with your "F" sounds. I hear it is one of the hardest sounds to master and you can take your sweet time if you want. I think it is really adorable to hear you say Goosy instead of Goofy, letting us know you eat with a Sork or that you just Sarted. Especially that last one. Farts are funny no matter how you say it.

You also say "Love you" now and that makes me melt a little each time I hear it. One of my other favorite phrases you say these days is "Ummm…how about…". You say it when we are picking out your clothes for the day or deciding on which snack to have or which book to read. The way you draw out the "ummm" and sound so inquisitive yet serious about your decision slays me. I couldn't figure out how you came up with that until I realized your Dad and I say that to you quite often. That makes it even cuter.


We are constantly telling you to take little bites of your food—which is in direct opposition to what your Dad and I do with our food. Some how you transformed those little bites into "cute bites" when you talk about them. You pinch your thumb and forefinger together and say "cute" when that bite on your fork is too big for your liking. That's our cue to help you get a more manageable bite for you. That's good. Somedays I wish I had that same self control.

This one will probably embarrass you because I'm going to talk about taking showers with me, but come on, you're just a little guy. It's not creepy yet. Plus, you love taking a shower and it's a great way to make sure you don't get into trouble if I need to shower when your Dad isn't around. Anyway, one of the new things you do when we take a shower is wash your bath toys and my feet with a washcloth. It is what we do when you take a bath, so it's only natural that you would return the favor. You're really sweet like that.

23 months—February 24, 2009

You have also developed this odd little dislike for shadows. It started one day when you ran out of your room yelling, "Bear. Bear." When I went to inspect the cause of this little frenzy I was surprised at what I found. There in your room, next to your bookshelf, was a shadow that did in fact look like a bear. It was being cast onto the wall from the rocking chair, but it was enough to freak you right out. After that you did not care for shadows one bit. It took a lot of reassuring and explaining what a shadow was before you would even look at one without panicking. You're better now, but that old bear still freaks you out a little. Don't worry, I'll keep you safe.

the bear

I hope when you are an adult you read these letters and get the same warm fuzzy feeling that I do when I write them. I hope you can appreciate how awesome you are and see how much we adore you.

Love,
Mommy