A couple nights ago you couldn’t sleep. You came to bed with me, and we spooned for a bit. After years and years of considering I may just be more of a fork, I realized a truth: You, me, right now, in this moment, are the perfect spoon.
Two years ago, as the sun was setting and Shabbat was beginning, I looked at you on my chest and had no clue how I could possibly love another little human as much as I loved your brother. Thinking to the rhythm of your tiny, newborn breaths, I worried about it. For a few days. For a few weeks. Back then, I had no idea how much I didn’t actually know.
One of the biggest lessons you’ve taught me so far is just how much I don’t know much about anything.
And, on that point, I wonder if you could ever know how amazing you are; I could certainly write pages trying to tell you. I get the feeling that will be the case, forever.
Meanwhile, how about this: I’m looking forward to so much.
To doing what you love with you.
To pretending with you.
To laughing with you.
To loving life with you.
To dreaming with you.
To figuring it all out with you.
Two years later, I know a lot more but I still don’t know so much.
Keep teaching me, Bebe.
We discovered tea parties this month. You’re a natural… Not sure how you already knew to pour so well. You must get that from your father.
It’s all in good fun, even when you’re smothering your guests with your ferocious love.
Or tenderly picking flowers and crushing them in your tiny hand.
You’ve started asking to try mama things. Like wearing my boots. Putting on my deodorant. Using hand cream (which apparently works great over jeans, shirts, in hair, and eyes). And on the rare occasion I put on a lil makeup, you’re right there saying אניייי!
But you’re also trying brother things… in a really major way. Actually, one thing that stands out this month is how much you copy everything he does.
Maybe it’s a girl thing. But you’ve got your lil bffs picked out. I hope you have it as good as I did.
Can’t believe you’re just about two, Bebe.
I consider this your ‘coming out’ month. Your debutante ball.
In the last few weeks, you have sprouted your first two teeth (the bases of them anyway). Just as we were starting to wonder if you’d be a gummy girl forever.
You started standing up, holding onto the table, couch, walker, your brother for support. You’re not interested in laying down at all, and even crawling is getting boring…
…or so I’m assuming since you freakin’ took steps while holding onto your walker last week. Seriously? That’s how you’re gonna play it? Apparently your mama walked at 10 months, so I guess this is like 1% of the ‘I hope you have a daughter just like you’ blessing/curse I was given… shudder.
And you found your voice, little Ariel. It happened after watching a Cookie Monster special. Are you hinting you’re ready for new snacks? Why have you been keeping it to yourself this whole time? Now you’ve got lots to say, like ‘yayayaya’ and ‘mamama’ and a ton of grunting, for some reason.
You came quietly, and you, for the most part, behave calmly. It’s been a quiet and calm sort of love, sneaking up on us, and now Bebe, I’m madly in love with you.
One day, you’re nursing your brand-newborn in your bed at home.
The next, (or 5.5 months later) you turn around for under a minute only to turn back and realize your baby is not where you left her, but rather pulling herself at a steady pace across the floor, reaching into the bottom shelf, pulling out a basket of toy cars, and sucking on one.
In the blink of a childhood.