Dear Love Bug,
It was such an absolutely perfect spring day that we couldn’t not go to the playground after work/daycare. You wanted to bring your scooter, which I wound up carrying all the way there and all the way back. But when we got there, the sun hovering at that perfect angle where it comes streaming through the trees that surround the little mulch lot with its two jungle gyms, you took off to your new favorite pastime: walking the wood edgers of the lot as if they’re balance beams. And your balance is surprisingly impressive. You’re so capable now, so much braver than you were even a few months ago. You scramble up the monkey bars with no fear, not even a wobble. You perch on top of the spinning cylinder (the function of which I still can’t determine, other than to cause children to fall off and break their necks) as if it’s a pommel horse. You go down the slides–the one piece of playground equipment that you took the longest to warm up to–head first. And while I can spend a split-second being slightly sad that you’re no longer a wobbly toddler, we’re having too much fun together for me to mourn any passing phase for too long.
My favorite part was when you took off down the hill into the big grassy field at the bottom of the lot, running far ahead of me and yelling back, “Tag! You’re it!” I guess you haven’t quite gotten the hang of that one.
Back at the house at dinner, you pronounced, “I want a different one!” “A different what?” I asked. “Hot dog bun.” “But you have one right there,” Daddy said. “What’s wrong with that one?” You: “There’s a hot dog in it.”
I noticed today, probably because it was slightly humid and you’d been outdoors, playing up a sweat, that your hair is getting long again and taking on that waviness that I love so much. With your omnipresent Orioles cap pulled down low on your forehead, your hair sticks out in the back and kind of curls around the edges.
Gosh, you’re cute. (P.S. I said that to you today, and you said, “I’m not cute. I’m a dog.” No idea.)
Love you like crazy, kiddo.