You aren’t supposed to compare children. Not your children to anyone else’s or your own children to each other. But there’s no other way. I mean, how would we know that you are such an exceptional sleeper, if we didn’t have your brother to compare you to? I’ve had about 9 thousand conversations with other mom’s and most of those have been about comparing children. I think it’s silly to say that children shouldn’t be compared. I don’t think that they should be compared in the “Why can’t you be more like your sister?!” sort of way, but that’s not comparing at all. That’s just being mean.
It’s been an exciting month for you. You have been walking with support, holding on to anything you can taking small rapid steps like a drunk in a hurry. You’ll hold on to our fingers, pants or even the draw string on a pair of shorts while you make your way across the floor. You still know that you can get places faster by crawling and will take a few steps and then drop onto all fours and race across the room. We’ve done the walking back and forth to Mommy and Daddy, but you walk a few steps and then drop to your knees again and race over pulling up looking at us expectantly for applause.You and your brother are going through a wrestling stage and we worry that he’s going to hurt you. When you both start crawling on top of each other, your Dad and I hurry into the room to warn your brother that he’s not to lay on you and repeat, “NO Wrestling!” again and again. Sometimes that’s enough to stop him, but other times we have to separate the two of you.
You always look so disappointed that we’ve ended the fun. You and the brother are starting to play a little together now, a new activity that thrills you. You spend the day following him from area to area of the house, trying to get your hands on whatever he is playing with so that you can play too. We’ve tried to make it sound like the best fun ever when you come in and destroy the block tower that brother’s just spend 15 minutes making, your Dad announcing in a playful voice, “YAY! Here comes Godzilla to smash Tokyo!” Brother doesn’t think it’s nearly as fun as you do.
You’ve been eating well, having little bits of whatever we are eating in addition to the banana and cheese staples in your diet. You prefer graham crackers to just about anything and still have not quite figured out how the sippy cup works. You’ve tried foods that I wouldn’t have dared feed your brother at such an early age, foods like cool whip and ice cream. Such is the life of the second child, you won’t have to wait as long for things as your sibling.
We have a little plastic tricycle that has no pedals. It’s a sit on push with your feet sort of toy and your brother didn’t know how to work it correctly until he was about a year and a half old. The other day it was in the kitchen, (because where ELSE should it live?) and you crawled over to it, pulled yourself up and climbed onto the seat where you did your little baby walk on it, riding it around the kitchen like you were two years old. Who knew that a baby on a plastic tricycle would be something that would make my heart swell with pride?
You are such a good baby. When I say “No!” most of the time you stop and listen. You can go hours past your nap without a fuss and if you fall down, generally you just roll over and get back up again. You don’t mind being held by strangers and get worried when you hear your brother cry, peering over at him with a look of concern. You have a healthy appetite and are all smiles all the time. You Dad however, might like to mention that you should probably stop kicking him in the boys during diaper changes; I don’t think he enjoys that, not one bit. Overall though, you’ve spoiled us rotten… and for that we love you all the more.
Love,
Mommy
Love,
Mommy
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