Your play has gotten more and more imaginative. You have long scenarios where your dolls go swimming in their own little pools (your little chairs). You play out parts of from the movies "Bolt" and "Madeline", sometimes with Isbre as a stand in for one of the dogs in the movies.
You also have bigger and better fits. In some ways they're just a continuation from the ones you had when you were little, but they are impressive.
We took you to OMSI (Oregon Museum of Science and Industry) and while we were there we saw "Deep Sea" about creatures in the ocean. The footage was dazzling and awesome, the vignettes riveting. After the first few minutes, you leaned over to me and asked "Have they closed the window so the fish don't get out". It took me a minute to figure out that the picture was so life-like that you thought it was real. You handled the movie well at the time, and were pretty well behaved (migrating back and forth from Dad's lap to your seat) for the movie.
The rest of the evening at home was uneventful, but that night you got up and woke me up and asked me to sleep with you. I came in to lie down with you, and for the first time that wasn't enough - you wanted Dad too. You were talking about seeing a 'scary dancing puppy' in your room. I put you in our bed (eventually driving Dad out with squirming) and you slept.
The next night when Dad put you to bed you wanted Dad to stay in your room because the 'scary dancing puppy' might come back. He had to assure you that he had locked all the doors and no puppy was getting in. He had to explain that no dog has hands or keys and so couldn't unlock the door or open it. Eventually you were satisfied and went to sleep on your own. Anyway, no more giant scary movis for a while.
This was the first Christmas Isabel had an idea of what was happening. She refused to see or sit with Santa, but did tell me she wanted Santa to get her earings and a bracelet.
Yesterday, you were playing on the stools at the kitchen bar with Dad. You were on one and calling it a train. Dad got on a stool and called it a bike. Then he lifted both hands up in the air and said "No Hands". You hustled over to him and started pushing on his hands. Not pushing them down to the "handle-bars", but towards his arms. Dad was confused until you said "There, hands back on."
From there, you put back on all the body parts, just to be sure.
Also yesterday, Sunday, you were an angel in the Christmas pageant at church. Somehow it seemed appropriate that your halo was always a little askew. You did pretty well during the walk up to the front of the church, although you didn't twirl like you were supposed to. But then you got all your twirling in, since you didn't stop twirling for almost all the rest of the pageant. You slowly twirled around the front of the alter, and almost into the Christmas tree. After a while you twirls started to look a little drunken as you got dizzy. After the service, everyone said they were just waiting for you to fall down, but you never did.
You had terrible coughing last night, and threw up 3 times from coughing so hard. Today we went to your Doctor, Dr. Lufti, who said you have a sinus infection and prescribed an antibiotic (amoxicillan). I was pleased after the swine flu that only I got a sinus infection, not you. But then....you got one too.
Every day there are new phrases you use that aren't quite right but show how your mind works. When you were describing where the ginger bread houses were to Dad, you said they were on the "radio desk". They were on the armoire, which is where we used to keep the TV and radio receiver. Dad gave you a funny look, so you figured out that what you called it wasn't quite right, so then you called it "the open and close", because the doors of it open and close.
A few days ago you told me that Daddy had given you some "nipple glue" and you had put it on. This made me really curious, so I asked you about it. You thought for a minute, then said it was so you wouldn't stink. At that point I knew what you were talking about. When you ask Dad why he puts on deodorant he tells you "So I don't stink." Lately he's been letting you use it when he does, and you tend to put it on your chest rather than under your arms.
Today you were endlessly asking if Tino and Francis could come over. I set your analog wind-up clock with the alarm so you could see how long it was until we picked them up (and I could sneak in a lesson on telling time) and you carried the clock all over the house with you and still kept asking me.
I decided that if I don't lay down to take a nap with you, getting you to take a nap is impossible. This week and the last part of last week, I let you stay up if you give me an hour of peace and quiet. I thought it would be impossible for you to not keep after me constantly, so it was going to be more of an excuse for me to put your in your room than a viable solution, but you were very good. You needed to be reminded several times, but not that many. You mostly just played by yourself (something that never happens otherwise), giving your dolls instructions on how to slide down the slide.
I could not get you to go down for a nap today. In fact, you ended up in one of your tantrums/fits where you want to kick and hit (and foam at the mouth because you try to spit) but you don't want to be put down. You'll ask to be put down, but then you'll scream to be picked back up again. It wore me out. After you came out of it you were happy as a lamb until after dinner. Then it was obvious that you NEEDED some sleep. Your dad took the bed shift tonight, which was nice for me.
Even on days like today, when you are a screaming, flailing mass, I am still astonished at how much you've added to my life. At how glad I am that you're here and how much I love you. You are smart and funny and dynamic and it's beyond fascinating to see parts of myself, my way of talking and being, reflected and changed in you. You may not have my DNA, but I can see parts of myself in you already and that's a lot of fun.
You are driven and always on the go. You can't wait to master the world and the things in it. You want to push against everything, try it all, have the world on your terms. I think it will make some things harder for you, but your life will not be boring. You won't let it be.
Six months after we thought we were getting somewhere with potty training, we actually may be moving forward. As far as I can tell, the important thing is to make you believe it's something you may not be able to do, or to be very blase. Then you start to think it must be something cool and want to do it. We even got some Elmo underwear, with high hopes.
It's hillarious to hear you sing "Frer a Jacque a". It comes out something like "Where a sock is? Where a sock is? Door mate. Door mate. Song a lot Amia. Song a lot Amia. Din din don." You have the last verse right, but the rest is really funny. I hope I can capture it on tape.
