And she is changing…

My little girl will be three soon. It’s hard to believe that she only recently stopped taking the bottle to bed with milk, since it seems ages ago now. It was hard at first, with cries of “I want my milk, I want my bottle. No, not the cup, the BOTTLE.” And she told me, “We have to go to the bottle store so we can buy more bottles.” But now that is all distant history.

We’re role playing now. We have magic shows, puppet shows, obstacle courses. “Daddy, when I call your name, it will be YOUR turn. And you have to do this…” The other night, she wanted to have a “safari” which to her means laying out all the many stuffed animals on the bed, looking up at the ceiling (“See the stars in the sky?”) and having a conversation. She wouldn’t let me call her by name, and I wasn’t Daddy either. She said I was Frank. And she was Joe. I played along. “So, Joe, how’s the wife and kids?” Somewhat taken aback, she quickly recovered. “Uh, OK. OK, they are fine. What did you pack to eat on our safari?”

She only has meltdowns if she misses her nap. Then all bets are off. But I know that, so I can be super patient. She enjoys looking at pictures “of when I was just a BABY!” And she is dragging around a roll pillow as her “baby.” I told her, “We have dolls, you know. Why do you want the pillow as your baby? Does it have a head?” She’d say, “I don’t want a doll. I want this baby.” It’s apparently a girl, though its name is Patrick. Actually, we are expecting again, and I think she’s picked up on it, so she is talking about “her” baby.

I commented to a friend that she is wonderful when asleep. Of course, she is wonderful when awake too. It’s just that I find it hard to concentrate or to do anything on my own with cries of “Daddyyyyyyy!” Then I think of missing my own father, who passed away, and I figure I should treasure every single moment of this tumultuous, loud, dramatic, and wonderful childhood. Because once it passes, we’re onto the next phase and this one is gone.

My two-year old lawyer

My little girl, who constantly reminds me, “I’m no baby!” recently surprised me. She likes to watch Dora the Explorer on “Papa iPad” at night. Sometimes she won’t go to sleep, because she wants to watch yet another episode. Again. And again. I don’t just mean she watches one after the other, but also, that she watches ones she has seen, over and over. Anyway, I usually let her watch until her set bedtime, and then I tell her it’s time to go to sleep, and take the iPad away. She grumbles a little, then settles in to sleep.

The other morning, getting up was difficult for her. She kept saying, “I want to sleep!” Eventually, she got up and brushed her teeth. I was getting her dressed when I saw her brow furrow and her eyes squint. Uh-oh, I thought. I know that look. She’s thinking about something very seriously.

“Daddy, babies need to sleep, right?”

“Yes, dear, babies do need to sleep.”

“Then why do you wake me up, Daddy?”

I was impressed by the initial statement that she asked for my agreement with, followed by the zinger question. It was a one-two punch technique, and I must admit, I have often used it myself. I always thought it was beyond a two-year old though.

“I love you, too, Daddy!”

More magical words have never been spoken. Up until now, my little girl would tell me what she wants, identify random objects or colors that she sees, and answer questions. “It’s a BLUE bird, not a red one.” “That’s no lion! It’s a horsie!”

Last night, we took a plane ride back from visiting Grandma and Grandpa. It wasn’t that long a flight, but it was difficult for her. She didn’t like the seat belt restraint, and her ears hurt. “No, Daddy, I don’t like it. I don’t WANNA be on the plane. I wanna get off. OFF. NOW. PLEASE…” I never thought we’d be THAT family on the plane, with THAT screaming crying child. Well, we were exactly that last night. Then, she threw up all over herself. She was soaked from head to toe. I could see she was upset. I said, “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up.” I proceeded to clean her little hands and face first with the wipes, then her clothes, and push all the liquid between her little legs off the seat onto the floor. It was in her socks, her shoes, the seat belt latch, everywhere. There was so much, and the wipes could only clean so much…It was like trying to mop up a flood with a few tissues. “Thank you, Daddy. Thank you.” If she didn’t go into appreciative mode, I would not have been as emotionally affected. I get the same way when she says, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Later that night, after we got home, she took a bath in her own tub, with her own toys, and got dressed in her own pajamas. She hugged me, and I told her I loved her. That’s when it happened. She looked me in the eyes and said, “I love you, too, Daddy.” I always thought it went without saying, and I assumed she felt that way, but to hear her say it in her sweet little voice does something to me I can’t describe. I just about melted. It’s a special milestone for me. Not just what she said, but the abstract thought behind it. I keep marveling that here she is, this little person, who has feelings and needs and likes and dislikes, and she is now learning to express herself in more than concrete terms. And she loves me! That makes me the luckiest person in the world.