Skip to main content

Trickles and giggles and a time to enjoy

Jan. 13 was a banner day for Miss Willow Rose Dunn.
That was the day she tinkled for the first time in her potty.
And she didn't do it just once. She tinkled four times in that potty, all to the glee and adoration of Mommy and Daddy (she even inspired me to tinkle a time or two in my potty).
Willow is growing so fast, becoming a big girl at an alarming rate.
Not even two weeks ago, she gave up her pacifier for good, and she never looked back. She was so determined to move on from Paci that she doesn't even allow her baby dolls to have them.
Also she's moved from her high chair to a booster at the dinner table (sometimes she just sits in one of the adult chairs at the dinner table). This hasn't been all hunky-dory, though; Willow likes to throw plates of food to the floor when she's finished. We're working on that.
Willow also has improved vastly on her tooth-brushing. We brush our teeth as a family in the morning and at night. She's gotten much better at it, and more patient.
This is all good and dandy, but I want to get to the really important stuff.
Last week I started playing catch with Willow using a beach ball. The girl can catch! And she can throw reasonably well for a 20-month-old toddler.
After several days of playing catch with her in the living room, I decided to take the lessons up a notch (and these are important lessons, let me tell you). On the sunny day Friday, when it was in the 70s and sunny, Willow and I took the beach ball to the backyard. We played catch for a while, then I introduced her to one of the utter joys of childhood, throwing a ball on the roof of your house and letting it roll back down to you.
Willow loved this (almost as much as I did)! Unlike me, she couldn't see the ball once it flew up over the gutter and bounded around on the shingles, but this made the game all the more fun for her because she didn't know when or where the ball would come back.
Every toss onto the roof became a surprise for her, as if she was waiting for Jack to spring from his box. She waited for the ball to pop over the edge of the roof and down to the ground. Sometimes the ball even popped her in the head, and that sent her into a giggle frenzy.
Indeed Willow is growing up. She is out of babyhood and deep into toddlerhood.
But if I shift my perspective just a bit, I don't have to see her growth as the onslaught of her slipping away. Instead I can slow things down, and appreciate the days we're enjoying now (and will enjoy this year) as what they really are, the blossoming of her childhood.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Adding a splash to the winter gray

Willow, Mommy and I went to the Y's pool on Sunday to take advantage of our membership and to do something summery in this dreary and cold weather. We had so much fun swimming and splashing, Willow and I went back on Tuesday. On Sunday, surprisingly, nobody else was at the pool, and the lifeguard seemed resigned to having to sit boringly in her stand. I have no problem with having an entire pool and a lifeguard all to myself, but, again, I was surprised nobody else was there, except for a few exercisers coming and going to use the steam room and the sauna (and a couple of guys hopped in the whirlpool for a few minutes). When Willow and I went on Tuesday, several people were in the pool, but they quickly scattered when the tot and I entered the pool. Maybe their time in the pool had come to a planned end. Maybe they didn't want to be in the water with someone who might pee or poop at any moment. After the initial scattering a couple of men came into the pool area and swam qui...

Among chaos, peace

I want to show you two pictures, but a little later. First I want to introduce you to chaos (or at least what I consider to be chaos) via a handy, dandy list: I am sitting at a laptop, pounding out a blog's letters as quickly as I can think of them. The laptop is only three months old, yet some of the keys stick sometimes. These sticky keys are the ghostly reminders that a toddler's sticky fingers have been pounding on them. Four loads of laundry lie in various states of "unfinish." One load is wet. One load is wrinkling. Two loads await their spins. A fifth load already has been tucked away in drawers, cabinets and closets (then untucked by a toddler then tucked again by me). Cups, plates and bowls hang for dear life to a hastily stacked pile of dirty dishes in the sink while a clean set of dishes sits in the dishwasher. A pile of pictures and postcards blanket the floor beside the desk in the guest room. This was the work of the sticky fingers that pounded on...

Willow wonders why, and why, and why, and why

Willow has started asking the dreaded "why?". She has been repeating the question over and over and over again for the past day or two, so I won't write about it just yet. "Why?" you ask. Because I don't think I'm an expert on the topic just yet. "Why?" you ask again. It has been only a day or two. "Why?" STOP IT! Anyway, before Willow started asking why, she led up to it by repeating other questions, such as, "Where is my purse?" I don't know. "Where is my purse?" I don't know; we'll look for it. "Where is my purse?" I'm looking for it now; we'll find it. And so on and so forth. I read someplace a parent's best response to repeated questions is to answer as well as you can for the first two or three questions then state, "I already told you the answer. I'm not answering again." Then you ignore the question if it keeps coming. Sometimes this works. Sometimes it do...