February 2012: 17 months

 

Dear Patrick,

Today is Leap Year and we are celebrating your seventeen months by thinking how quickly they have "leaped" by.  Here are the highlights from the month: 

• You announced to us on Superbowl Sunday morning that you had just pooped.  Thanks, buddy.
• Grammy and I went to the “switch-a-roo” consignment event and bought you 18 month winter clothes and some 24 month summer outfits.
• It was 70 degrees on February 5th - a beautiful day in the middle of winter.
• The official sign language for "please" is done by making a small circular movement on your chest with one hand.  You say please by rubbing your whole body up and down.  Sometimes with both hands. 
• You desperately want to be able to jump but can't understand yet how to get both feet off the ground. 
• Your face broke your fall on the driveway this month and earned you the nickname “Bruiser Byrd.”
• You started a music class with Grammy this month.  I’m not sure you knew what to make of the other kids sitting in a circle singing songs.  You got up and stood right in the middle of it all - the center of attention.
• You made a new friend: “Snowy” the owl.  And when we read the "Owl Babies" book you say “No-eee," and run to get her because she must so obviously be their cousin.
• You have more little bumps and bruises this month than ever before - everyday, everywhere.
• You don’t have much hair to cut but we took you for your first official “trimming” on Monday 2/20 at Great Clips.  You didn’t like the bib-cover (which we didn't use), but really enjoyed the swivel chair and squirt bottle.  
• We took you to visit “school” this month at Fourth Presbyterian church and hope to enroll you two mornings a week in their summer program starting in June.
• You love to hide in the closet under your father's shirts. We say "Where is Patrick?  Is he here?" And you say, "no."  
• You love to dance, sit in the car and pretend to drive, and play "tee-he-he" (a game you and your father made-up) in the pillows on the bed.
• The child development books state that most babies your age can say ten words.  But you, my son, are a linguistical superstar.  You can say: fish, juice, dis (this), wa-wa (water), no, man, bonga (bone), ta-ta (thank you), bean, wrecker (record), dudes (garbage dude - thanks Grammie) mote (remote control for the TV), poon (spoon), bush (brush), broom, mop, soup, keeni (zucchini), canny (candy), bike, moon, rain, shoes, ball, ollies (olives), ownie (onion), hole, write (and you love to scribble on paper), truck, bus, poop, tee-tee, wooka (worker), hoops, railroad, stick, blue, black, sand, soap, gone, circle (and you know the shape), ba-ba (bottle), moaw-moaw, (mailman), heeey (and you always wave when you say it), mama, dada, barr (bear), taxi, sticky (which you use for sticker too), one two (and you can count), boo-boo, nose, knee, copper (helicopter), yucky, sneaky, meow, moo, Ganggie (Grammie), Nanny (Nana), Papa, Bunk, Gin-gin (Ginny his friend up the street), Noey (Snowy the owl), bee, buzz, toast, Backer (Baker the cat) and Pop (for your grandfather Neil and pop-tarts.) You also say “night” for the book “Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site,” and something that sounds like “Road Work,” another favorite book this month.