Monthly Newsletter #30

Dear Landon,

Today you turn 2 ½. 2 and a half. Are you sure you’re not 12 yet? You’ve been here for so long!

You have an endless fascination with families right now. And your imagination is great. A couple days ago you found a baby monkey in the kitchen and the mama and daddy monkeys were in the dining room, so you brought the parents in to be with the baby monkey so they could talk to him. About 5 minutes later you shared a cake you found in the dining room. You are sometimes a baby and sometimes a kitty and sometimes you are a monster getting me. You believe kitties belong outside, so when you found a kitty outside and I told you that we needed to go inside, you set the kitty down. All in your imagination. All awesome.

Somewhere a long the way you discovered magic. There’s a certain ball trick that is in the collection of toys at Grandma and Grandpa Logan’s house that you have always kind of liked. Last time we went down there, you decided that you not only would now require a cape, but also a hat, and a wand. When it came time to leave, you packed everything in your coffee can hat and brought it home with you. You have played with it every day since. You've kind of ditched the ball trick in favor of making things disappear. When you decided that the hat didn’t fit quite right, and I told you I could make you a hat out of paper, you agreed, and when I asked what color you wanted, you said white, and since your cape is white I decided not to bother with asking whether it should be a wizard hat or a top hat – I went with a top hat and you’ll thank me for that one later. I made the main part of the hat and asked if you wanted a brim. You did not. And now I can’t help but think you look a little Pope-like in your cape and hat.

One of your friends got sent home from school with pink-eye the other day and the teacher told me that they thought you had it too. I wish they would have called me earlier in the day and I could have taken you to the Dr. that day, but they waited until I picked you up at 6 – you know, AFTER the doctors all go home for the night. Anyway, I took you in the next morning and we discussed your latest long lasting but not severe cough that I hadn’t bothered with and the decision was not regular contagious pink-eye, but sinus infection backing up and shooting out of your eyes – although still the diagnosis on your bill said conjunctivitis. In hindsight I’m kind of glad it worked out that way, you were miserable and cranky, and if I had just ignored your teacher and sent you to school anyway, you wouldn’t have made it very long. But with just three doses of antibiotics in your system, you were ready to go to school the next day. Well, kind of. I mean, we were back to your regular disdain for leaving the house instead of the monstrous one that shows up when you don’t feel well.

Speaking of which – you are becoming a homebody. When we go anywhere, inevitably about 30 minutes to an hour after we get there, you start whining about wanting to go home. You hardly ever seem to actually have anything in mind once we get there, but you want to go home none the less. Just to be there.

Your love of music is still pervasive. We were watching TV a while back and the Wii Music commercial came on. You have played the Wii music game before; you were pretty good at the trumpet. But you were super excited about the prospect of drums. So I pulled out the drum you got from Grandma and Grandpa Wood and let you have at it. It may or may not have been fairly early on a Sunday morning, and your father may or may not have been sound asleep when I did it. And I may or may not have known that at the time. And I may or may not have some slight passive aggressive tendencies. I just want to sleep in every once in a while, and if I can’t sleep in, NO ONE can sleep in. You’ve been banging on that drum ever since. Your father wants me to admit that it was a bad idea to bring it out. I admit nothing – I’ll put it back up the day he gets up with you at 5:30 or 6 am on a Saturday morning and lets me sleep until 8 or 9. In other words, enjoy playing the drum kid, it’s here to stay.

Love,

Mama