Dear Lucy,
Hey! It's been a big weekend for you. There have now been real, taken-on-your-own steps taken (more on that below). There was a trip to the emergency room for an asthma attack too, whoopie!
Verbally, you've just...taken off! You've grown, verbally, miles just this weekend. You repeat Everything we say, and seem to understand the context. For instance: no. Wow. It actually sounds like "no" now. And cookie sounds like cookie. This afternoon, while we were eating brunch out, you dropped your spoon. I said, "shoot!" and you repeated me, and proceeded to practice the word all day long. I thought maybe I was saying it a lot, but I wasn't; you kept trying it out without my prompting. Tonight after the bath, you insisted on holding onto your stacking cups. As I was folding the towel around you, you lost your grip on them and they slipped to the floor. As they fell, you said, sobbing "oh, shoot!" and dad and I had to laugh. At least you used it in the correct context.
Then there are the colors. You love to name colors. And talk to BoohBah. And repeat what your electronic chair says: "Hi there!". (I could really do without the chair, but you like it and it was a gift from Nana.) Before the bath, you were hugging yourself, something I've seen you do in the past week. I couldn't figure it out until we said, "Lucy, what does that mean?" and you answered "baby". You were pretending to rock a baby, just like the girl in your baby sign language book. It's not only that you say words and we understand them, but that you understand the questions we ask and then answer. This is wonderful.
You've also started throwing real tantrums. This is cool, right? Okay, not really. But it's kind of nice to know that there's nothing I can do except watch you flail on the carpet and whip yourself into a real fit. I especially like it when you throw your cookie on the floor first and then roll around in it. That's pretty. But I like the feeling of relief in those moments; the feeling of recognizing the "Lucy that's separate from me". Nothing I offer will truly ease your suffering, and the moment will pass.
When we were in a couple of stores today and, unlike last week, we only had to bribe you with one cookie. This week, you were happy to sit in the cart and talk with us. Of course it helped that we got you some "bottles" for your doll, but I'm going to give your burgeoning maturity the credit for now.
And finally, my heart skipped a beat when you walked to me into my arms! We were in your bedroom and you were having a fit and standing in front of dad. You really wanted to be in my arms and I was sitting in front of you. And you just did it! I think, for a moment, you forgot your trepidation and took those first, three, unassisted steps. Then later, you walked from the orange chair in the living room to dad by yourself! Of course, after that we spent 20 minutes trying to get you to do it on tape, but to no avail. But we know and you know that you did it. And you'll do it again (tomorrow?).
I'm so proud of you, Lucy. You are so wonderful and smart. I know you will find wonderful things in this life. I promise to help you figure out this asthma problem you've got going so we can avoid the Kaiser emergency room for breathing treatments. You are such a trooper. As always, your humor grows. We love to watch you laugh at silly things and read your books, quietly, in your rocking chair.
I can't wait to see where your next steps take you.
Rock on,
Mom
