Lucy,
What a holiday! Today, when you left with dad to go to Julie's, you were like a new baby. And I fear I can't call you a baby for long. You were standing at the door, laughing and ready to go.
In the last few weeks, you've really learning to communicate what you need. Over break, your dad taught you the sign for "pain" and now you say "oww" and put your little fingers together. Yesterday you received three vaccinations and this morning reminded us that it hurt. You also have molars coming in, but you are so tolerant of them, most of the time. My other favorite thing with your language development is that you'll say "da" and "yeah" for "no" and "yes". Actually, sometimes "da" means yes, but we usually figure it out. You'll sit in your high chair, or on the floor, and talk up a storm. And you'll get pissed if you need something we don't understand. If you want more cookies, we stand away.
Your personality shines through when learning new tasks. "Shines" is a nice way to say that if you don't get how something works, you'll shriek and throw the toy, sometimes throwing yourself to the ground in the process. Usually, this means you are ready for a nap of some kind, but sometimes we just have to laugh (over the screaming) and redirect your efforts. But it's so cool, really, to see you figuring out the world. Each day you ask us what things are called -- yesterday, you were intent on learning the difference between finger and thumb. Unfortunately, when you say "truck" or "sock", it sounds an awful lot like "cock" ... and I'm not ready for you to say that word. And let's me honest, will I ever be ready?
This holiday season, just in time to ring in the new year, we had our first real medical scare. We took you to the doctor because you were having trouble breathing. We had a well-baby visit set up, but you were not well at all. Although dad and I thought we didn't need to go to the hospital in the night, it turns out we should have just gone. I felt so bad. When we got to Kaiser, you were so lethargic from lack of sleep and liquids (you couldn't nurse or drink water). We now know you have asthma, so it'll be a life-long watch over your lungs. They did breathing treatments and oxygen. And chest x-rays. And an i-v drip to restore your fluids. And finally, you were yourself again. We'll finish up your medicine for the beginning of pneumonia and keep your liquid steroids around. You also have an inhaler and let me tell you, you LOVE that thing. (Note to manufacturers of the tube/mask contraption: do you really think the little bear on the side is going to make kids feel better about using it? It doesn't seem to matter to our Lucy and in fact, talking about said bear makes her chuck the entire piece of plastic across the room.)
All in all, you are growing fast and loving the world more each day. You are becoming more of a toddler in voice and action, and even after the 89th round of "Baa, Baa Black Sheep", I'm happy to sing it again. But don't push it. Ha!
All the love in the world to you --
Mama
P.S. Next time, remind me to write about your fixation with pictures of: The Buddha, The Dalai Lama and Dr. Andrew Weil.
