Dear Connor - 3 Years, 6 Months

Dear Connor,
They say that the age of 3 is harder than the age of 2, but it doesn’t seem that way to me. I think the age of 3 is more frustrating than the age of 2, but at least you are a little more lucid and can be reasoned with.

Except when caterpillars are involved. A couple of days ago, we discovered caterpillars in the back yard. Well, in the yard, on the deck, on the porch and last night in the upstairs bathroom. I picked up one for you to hold and in no time at all, you were attached. Shortly after this, I decided that you were occupied enough for me to go to into the house for a moment, but I left the back door open so I could still hear you on the porch. A minute later I heard a blood curdling scream followed by hysterical crying and ran to the porch to fight the wild jackals that must have snuck onto the porch causing you to scream this way. Instead I found you pointing to the caterpillar that had fallen from your hand to the porch floor, as you sobbed, “MOMMY IT’S GETTING AAAWWWWAAYYY!” I was a little bit confused by this drama, as the caterpillar was about a foot away and moving at a rapid rate of 4 feet an hour, but we picked him up and put him back into the cup that you were carrying around.

This drama happened again and again, each time the caterpillar attempted to climb up the side of his container. You snuck it into the house behind me when I went in to make you a drink. I saw the empty cup in your hand and asked where your caterpillar was. “He’s climbing now.” You said. “Where?” I asked, cringing. You pointed to the kitchen table where the caterpillar was just trucking along the side.
Soon you were begging to be able to keep it in your room and sleep with it. We negotiated hard on this one and ended up making a house from an old aquarium that no longer holds water. After additions of rocks, dirt, moss and sticks I was able to talk you into putting your caterpillar into his new home.

Yesterday, Daddy was outside with you as you collected every caterpillar that you could find. The terrarium that we built now has 21 caterpillars that you feed and mist daily. You tell them goodnight and want to go and visit them first thing in the morning. It’s all so sweet that if I thought I could handle cleaning a cage once a week, I’d get you a hamster or another equally amusing rodent. But it would have to sleep in your room… and those things are nocturnal, you know.

You’ve been going to swim lessons for over a month now and you’re doing great! Daddy takes you to your lessons so I haven’t actually seen you in lesson mode yet, but the reports are that you can hold your breath under water and swim 10 feet. The first time I heard this, I’m not sure if I was more proud that you could do it or relieved that you had learned a skill that could one day save your life. Daddy says that you are an independent swimmer, wary but not afraid of the water. You love the waterslide and the other two boys in your class. Now, if I could just get you to stop asking me every second of the day, “Are swimming lessons tonight?”
I love you,
Mommy

Dear Tristan - 19 Months

Dear Tristan,

Last Sunday, you had your first major injury. I was in your brother’s room looking for pajamas while you and your brother were both running, naked and wild in Mommy and Daddy’s room. Your brother came running into his room, (where I was on the pj search) with a ceramic plate he had removed from the bottom drawer of the sideboard that’s in our room. I told him he wasn’t supposed to be in THAT drawer and fearing immediate time out, he went running off down the hallway, naked, back to Mommy’s room. Following him, I was halfway down the hallway when I heard you scream. I knew before I saw you what had happened. Your brother accidentally smashed your fingers in the drawer in his haste to put the dish back.

It scraped off the top layer of skin and had some bruising, but you pulled your hand out before major damage could be done. And oh how you cried.
After a few minutes of sitting in my lap sobbing, your brother went into hysterics, because he was afraid. At first, he was afraid that he was going to get into trouble, but quickly it was replaced by his fear that you were really hurt, because as he said, “I can’t get Tristan to stop crying!” You were both hysterical. So much so that I had to call in the reinforcement, who was downstairs cooking dinner.
I’ve never seen you really get hurt and although I knew that the injury was minor comparatively speaking, it still freaked me out a little bit. I think it’s true that the second child is tougher than the first, just because of the sheer stamina it takes to keep up with an older sibling.
Usually when you are crying, it’s because a toy was taken away from you or you think I don’t understand that it’s the word, “candy” that you are saying yelling while pointing to the pantry at 8 o’clock in the morning.
You get so frustrated that you can’t verbally communicate with us. Generally you assume that we don’t understand you and repeat the word over and over hoping that we’ll get it. This doesn’t work out so well for you, because after I’ve heard, iwannacookie, fifteen times in a row, I’m definitely not giving up a cookie.
You are slowly starting to try new foods. Very. Very slowly. The other day, you accidentally put a bite of green bean casserole into your mouth and ended up eating all that was on your plate. And the night after that, I think I might have seen you eat a carrot, although you may have thought you were about to ingest a cheese doodle. You’ve discovered peanut butter but still aren’t a fan of milk. If there is something on your plate that you don’t want to eat, you subtlety let us know by holding it out at arms length, waiting until we are looking and then purposefully dropping it onto the floor.

You like dropping things on the floor. You are like a seagull, dropping clams high from the air onto the rocks to retrieve the treasure inside. The treasure in this case, however, are the inner workings of whatever thing you’ve just sacrificed. We had to tape up the back of the remote control because you couldn’t get enough of tossing it on the tile, popping off the back, so that you could play with the AA batteries inside of it. Give you a new toy and the first thing you’ll do after inspecting it thoroughly and tasting every inch is to drop it on the tile.

You are becoming quiet the social butterfly, saying “Hi” to everyone… your family, people at the grocery store… even Papaw and Nana’s cats. When you say “Hi”, your sure to beam and await a response. How could anyone not smile at your cuteness?! I’m not sure if it’s because I’m your mother, but some days you are cuter than a wagon full of baby ducks being pulled by a puppy.

Love,

Mama