Letters to Isabel, Month 33

Dear Bella Boo Who,

Today you turn 33 months old. I can’t believe it has been this long and I have yet to write you one of these letters. You have grown and changed so much, and the time has just flown. I wish I could go back and write you one for each precious month. There is already so much I’ve forgotten. And sometimes it’s hard to realize that you won’t remember any of this. The hours we spent pacing the floors together when you were tiny, those two weeks when you would only sleep on my chest while I sat in the rocking chair, the way your sharp, clever little mind takes in everything around you.

But let’s just stick with this month, eh kidderino? You continue to be one of the smartest, most verbal two year olds I’ve ever met. Your new favorite word is “acceptable”. I have no idea where you picked it up, but you actually use it properly in sentences. Any time you ask for anything now it’s, “is that acceptable, Mommy?” Hilarious. You still mix your pronouns up most of the time (“You” means “Me” and vice versa) but you are starting to change that. Thaaat’s a little confusing. But we will get there.

You also continue to be obsessed with cars and ducks. You’ve displayed a passing interest in the Disney Princesses, but you still prefer Lightning McQueen. And that’s cool. I love that about you. But I get so frustrated about how kids’ things are so polarized by gender these days. Cause you know what? You also really dig tutus, ballerinas, and make up. In fact, a few days ago I saw you trying to put a tutu on one of your trucks. When I tell people about your love of all things wheeled, they tend to nod knowingly and say “Ah, a tomboy.” And I usually don’t bother to reply. Because when I explain that your intensely unique personality just can’t be summarized by one word like that they usually nod again and say, “Don’t worry, she’ll grow out of it.”

I hope you never do, darling. Because what I see in you is a determination not to be a cliché. You like what you like, whether you are supposed to or not. Good for you. I hope you never feel like you have to fit anyone else’s mold. You are an amazing little person, and every day that I get to know you a little better is a privilege.

This month we’ve seen you get back on the potty training horse. I am still determined to not turn this into a power struggle (cause let’s face it, I’m not sure if I would win). But I’m also looking forward to preschool next year, and if you are not potty trained you won’t get to go. And I think you are going to love it. Well, that’s a lie. You are going to hate it. Let’s face it; you are not crazy about most other kids. And large groups of kids your age tend to send you into paroxysms of anxious fury. After which you cling to the nearest adult like a life buoy in a sea of rabid sharks. With laser beams attached to their heads. Therefore, darling, you must go to preschool. You will adjust. Then you will love it, I promise.

You are getting along a little better with your brother this month. You still treat him as though he were a dangerous type of snake. But every now and then you psych yourself up and lean over and touch him. Carefully. While keeping your torso as far away from him as possible. Then you look up and wait for the Big People to go “Aww!” It cracks me up that he terrorizes you so much already. If he gets within a foot of you, you start shouting “He doesn’t want to get you!”
Here’s a tip, honey. You can run. He can’t. Enjoy it while it lasts. He’s crazy about you, though. And I know that when you are ready, you’re really going to have fun with him too. You’re just going about it the way you go about everything else. In your own sweet time.

I love you,

Mama