You are three years old! In many ways you are exactly the same kid that you have always been. You are sweet and funny. You always want to help us, even when we're just turning on the computer to watch a video. You are curious and determined. You like to learn things, and then you like to tell us all about them.
And in other ways you are changing every day. You've started to ask me, "What do those letters mean?" when you see text, even if we're not reading a book. You have picked up new habits from school, like arranging all of our shoes neatly when we come home from somewhere. You used to hate showers, but you've enjoyed taking a couple of showers at night with Dad, instead of a bath, which I think mainly stems from the fact that you can splash a lot more when the shower curtain is closed.
Your vocabulary grows and grows, but now you like to use it to tell us what to do. "You drive that train." "You stay downstairs." "I'm going to do it." You've started trying to give the dogs commands, too, but they just end up looking confused. You have a couple of new interests: asteroids (especially crashing into the earth) and the Hindenberg. The other night we were putting on your pjs, and I started singing Old McDonald Had a Farm. It turns out that we've been wrong for years. Old McDonald doesn't have any animals: he has asteroids.
This will be the first birthday that you'll have at school. It's also the first time we've been invited to a party for one of your classmates. We declined because we were going to have cake and presents for you at home on the same day. That got postponed, though, because you've had one of your rare bouts of sickness. You woke up very early in the morning on Sunday with a high fever, and spent almost the whole day curled up on the couch watching episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba, Thomas the Train, and playing video games with Dad. Monday you didn't have school anyway, and we kept you home Tuesday and today. So we did your birthday stuff on your actual birthday today. Luckily, nobody told you between then and now that your cake was already in the fridge.
Cake! In the fridge!
I'll tell you that joke later.
Other than that, it's been a fairly quiet month for us. Dad brought home some delicious dessert treats on Valentine's Day, to go with your giant heart balloon. You got some Valentines cards from some classmates, which meant I had to answer a lot of questions about, "What does Scooby Doo do? What do Smurfs do?" Ah, pop culture. I started pre-natal yoga class again. You got a hair cut. Two friends gave us hand-me-downs for you, which should set up your wardrobe for the next 12-18 months. I got a massage, during which the therapist ran her hands over my left shoulder and said, "This is the side you carry your son on, isn't it?" so I guess I was tense in that shoulder.
This is your last birthday as an only child, which is kind of a strange thought. I imagine in the future that we'll need to get better at doing something actually special for your birthdays, especially if Baby Sister's birthday ends up just a few weeks away. I had to share birthday parties with a couple of my cousins, and while I like my cousins very much, it was kind of a drag. I'm not really a celebratory person, but someday you'll probably want more than just a cake. I think what holds me back sometimes is the fact that I celebrate every day that you're in my life. So while the 22nd of February is undeniably meaningful, it just doesn't outweigh the other 364 days of the year that I get to be your mom.
Love, Mom
Presents before breakfast! Cake before dinner!After dinner drawing. I would like to point out the zeppelin in flames, drawn next to the box of crayons. You requested a drawing of the Hindenberg, and then you were so disappointed in what Dad drew that you went upstairs and got the book which had the actual photo of the Hindenberg, so that Dad could draw it the right way. Oh, the humanity!
You started school! You're enrolled in a Montessori pre-school, in Children's House 3. You go five mornings a week from 8:30 - 11:30am. On your first Monday, the day after we got back from Indy, I took the day off from work. Grandma and Grandpa Lam and I all came to drop you off. You were scheduled for an hour that morning. You cried for few minutes when we dropped you off, but pretty soon you were involved in an activity. We spent the time that you were in class making sure that Grandma and Grandpa knew where everything was, and who everyone was. The hour went fine, and we all went home. You spent the rest of the day with Grandma and Grandpa as normal, and I spent it running errands.
On Tuesday, you did two hours of class. You cried a little bit again when they dropped you off, but the rest of the time went well. By Wednesday, you were up to the whole three hours of class. You didn't cry that morning or Thursday morning, either. On Thursday afternoon, Dad and I stopped by their open house for current and prospective parents. Rachel and Krista (your teacher and assistant teacher) told us that you like to use the blocks, and play the bells, and use the scale. In fact, they put the scale in the room just for you, because you saw it somewhere else in the school and got all fascinated by it. They were both very positive about how you were doing, so we felt good about that. And on Friday, Grandma cracked us up when she told us that you didn't even say good-bye to her that morning. She walked you down to your classroom, and you ran inside without looking back. So, I guess we didn't really need to worry about how you would adjust to school.
You've said some really amusing things over the past weeks, and I'm going to try and remember them:
1. One of my errands on that Monday was getting an oil change for the van, during which they discovered that the power steering rack needed to be replaced. Luckily, it was under warranty, so they sent me off in a free rental. Grandma told you sometime that afternoon that we had to get the van fixed, and that night you asked me, "What did you do to the poor car?"
2. While we were in Madison for Christmas, we were reading a book about being a big brother. You asked me, "Where is Baby Sister?" which you had never asked me before. I said, "She's in Mama's belly." I put your hand on my stomach, but there wasn't any movement to feel just then, so it didn't capture your attention. But then you poked me and said, "I will make a hole and she will come out right here!"
3. When we were home between Christmas and Indy, I mentioned something about Baby Sister while we were sitting in your rocking chair at bedtime. You said, "Where is Baby Sister?" and I said, "She's in Mama's belly." Then you said, "She's hiding in the closet! She's hiding under the crib! She's hiding under the bed! She's peeking at me from behind that pillow!" I tried to deny each of these in turn, but I was laughing pretty hard, which did not discourage you.
4. You've picked up a funny verbal tic from me and Grandma: we've answered you so many times by saying, "Of course you can [whatever]," that you've started using "of course" instead of "yes." "Do you want more oatmeal?" "Of course I want more oatmeal!"
5. You've made me sing Twinkle Twinkle about each of the planets, and let me tell you, it is not easy to rhyme anything with Jupiter, much less Uranus.
You've started including scientists in your study of everything volcano. We watched a National Geographic program about volcanoes which was actually quite morbid. They spent a lot of time talking about volcanologists who had been injured or killed. You didn't seem to pick up on that part, but you definitely noticed that there were people studying the volcanoes. The last couple of times you've wanted to draw volcanoes, you've made me draw scientists, too. It makes me happy in a nerdy way, although I do hope you don't grow up to get killed by a volcano.
We spent yesterday celebrating Chinese New Year by making dim sum brunch with Grandma and Grandpa Lam, and our friends Kay and Sara. We went to one of the Asian grocery stores in town to pick up buns and dumplings and Chinese sausage. Dad cooked two rice dishes--one a sticky rice and one a baked dessert with coconut milk and brown sugar. We had some initial problems getting the steamer situated, having never used the bamboo stack-able kind before. But everything turned out well enough that I'm hoping we can do it again fairly soon. At least the buns and dumplings. The sticky rice might have to stay a special occasion dish. You seemed to like the pot stickers and cha siu bao, although you might have just been having fun using your chopsticks.
In a month, you will be three years old. Along with all of the other cliches about how much you've changed our lives, and how we didn't know what we were missing, and how being parents has made us better people, comes the one that says: I still can't believe we're parents in the first place. Yesterday, we were snuggled up on the couch together watching some Thomas, and that's what ran through my mind. Here you are with us, your own amazing little self, and we get to watch you grow up and discover the world. And it's pretty great.
Month 35, Part 1: Would you like some driving with that?
Dear Corbin,
You are 35 months old, although it felt like December-January lasted much longer than just a month.
We drove to Madison. We drove to MSP. We drove to Madison. We drove to Indy. We drove to Madison. We drove to MSP. I'm glad we only do that much driving once a year, and I can't even imagine how awful it would be if you were not as good a traveler as you are. Of course we make sure that we have snacks and activities, and we try to time our starts and stops well, but you really do make it pretty easy.
You were in Madison for Christmas a few days before Dad and I drove down. It snowed just enough one day that you complained about not having your snow shovel. You and Grandpa Lam made a giant snowball, at least the size of a basketball. That snowball was all that was left of the snow when Dad and I arrived. It was as if you had gathered up all of the snow from the lawn to make it, and it looked really funny sitting there on the brown grass.
You helped pick out the Christmas tree, and then helped Grandma Lam put the ornaments on it. Every morning, the first thing you did when you came downstairs was turn on the Christmas tree lights. We inadvertently gave you a lot of presents for Christmas. I had gotten a couple of things on sale several months ago, and given them to Grandma for a day that you were all sick of each other and needed a new toy. She misunderstood what I intended and wrapped them up as your Christmas presents. So instead of three or four new toys under the tree, you ended up with twice that many. I like to think that you won't grow up spoiled, but I fear that ship has sailed already.
The exploding volcano toy was a hit, as was a truck from Aunt Alice. Dad went out and found you the biggest balloon that he could (I talked him into a dinosaur shaped balloon to go with the dinosaurs from the volcano toy) and also added a trio of cheap hacky sacks to juggle for you. You like the Hungry Hippos game, which is fun. We happily ignore the actual game rules. You like to feed the marbles to the hippos or decide which hippo gets to eat marbles next. It makes me laugh.
After we opened presents, Dad and Grandma and I went to Christmas Mass. Then we all went over to the Skivers' house to visit with them and all of their kids and grandkids. Grandpa Lam made a delicious Christmas dinner, as usual. And then the next day we all packed up and headed home for a couple of weeks. Our New Year's was pretty quiet, which was just fine with me. We had some friends over to chat and then watch a movie. I don't remember how old I was the first time I stayed up to watch the ball drop in Times Square, but I'm guessing I was around 8 or 9. I wonder how old you'll be when you want to stay up for the first time, and if the pre-Ball Drop show will be any good. It will probably be like the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and I won't know any of the performers or cultural references, and I'll just make disparaging remarks while you tell me how I need to stop living under a rock.
And then it was time to drive back to Madison. This time we left the dogs behind and had to pack up all of the presents for the Thornes and Spencers. We spent Thursday driving down and had a nice dinner with Grandma and Grandpa Thorne. You and Grandpa read one of the stories on his new Nook. (That was an ironic moment for me and Dad. That's what Dad had suggested getting me for Christmas, and then I told him all of the reasons not to. So he didn't get me anything yet, and keeps telling me that if I want something, I have to pick it out.)
Friday morning, we met Aunt Erin, Charlotte and Baby Ray at the Children's Museum of Indy. We started off in the gallery about trains, then we checked out the dinosaurs. They had a fun recreation of a dig in Montana, so we suited you up with some goggles and you dug around in the "dirt" for a long time. I kept putting the goggles over your eyes, and you kept pushing them up onto your forehead. Once you turned and looked at me, pulled them over your eyes and said, "I'm wearing goggles!" Then you turned back to the dig and pushed them back up. That made me laugh. A little while after that, someone mentioned that the thunderstorm was going to start by the dinosaurs, so we went to check that out. They used some strobes for lightning, which was a little too realistic for you. You started yelling at me to go in the house and get away from the lightning, which is what I always tell you when we read the encyclopedia book about weather and get to the page about lightning. "What do you do when it lightnings?" "Go in the house!" I never thought about adding the caveat, "Unless it's fake lightning from strobe lights." Clearly, I have been totally misleading you.
We also rode on their antique carousel, on a black horse named Pete, and went down the two story Yule Slide together. We checked out one of the science-y sections that Dad remembered from when he was a kid, but they'd changed it all around and he wasn't impressed. You discovered the construction site, though, and were terribly sad when we decided it was lunch time and wouldn't just leave you there the rest of the day. We spent that afternoon and night at the Spencers' house, having dinner and opening presents with them. They were generous as always; we had plenty of new music and new books to occupy us on the drive and new train track to keep us busy once we got home.
We stopped to have lunch with Jesse Grenz at UIUC on the way to Madison. So far, he only sees you once a year, so it's always fun to see his reaction to how much you've grown. You weren't talking the last time he saw you, so this was a big change this time. UIUC is a convenient stop coming from Indy, and then as the afternoon starts getting really long, we hit the stretch of highway that runs past the big wind farms, so that's a nice distraction. It's the second day of driving, from Madison to MSP, that is the really hard part and makes us really glad to be home.
And then I spent Sunday night getting all of your things ready to start pre-school on Monday, but more about that later.
Doing that much traveling can be pretty hard. But one of the reasons that I'm glad you travel so well is that family trips are some of the best memories I have from growing up. I hope that we're able to have lots of great family trips in the future. At the very least, we know you want to see the Grand Canyon, which you discovered on a placemat at Denny's. Yes, really.
You are 34 months old, and it seems like a lot of months and also very few, all at the same time. Dad and I had breakfast with the Stauffers the other day, and I was holding their new baby girl and thinking about how strange it will be to hold an infant again. Baby Sister is going to seem so tiny next to you! Which is also funny, because you're not a really big kid. You're still wearing 24 month pants, after all.
You've taken to climbing all over lately. You climb up the sides of the arm chair, and stand on the arms of the couch. You can climb into your high chair all by yourself. But you still haven't climbed out of your crib, which is fine with me. You did fall off the arm of the chair once and scared yourself and Grandma Lam half to death. I'm sure I should be teaching you not to climb on the furniture, but instead I just keep telling you not to fall off. Judging from the behavior of me and Uncle Alex when we were kids, you come by the mountain goat gene honestly, so you may as well just learn some attendant caution.
You and I managed to survive our couple of weeks together. We did have some new toys to keep us occupied. I opened up a new figure-eight train set and we built some big, twisty railroad tracks. I also sewed up a couple of stuffed puffer fish and we had fun with them. Dad finished up some speakers he was building, and I also made a new book box for you by covering a milk crate in some white canvas. Part of your climbing included the previous one, which was just cardboard and beginning to fall apart. Of course, now that I've made the new one, you haven't stepped foot on it again.
We went to visit your pre-school this month. We found out that your teacher, Rachel, is someone Dad knew already--he used to date her younger sister. Quite the case of, "it's a small world after all." It was nice to feel like we already had a connection, though, and to have some confidence in her. When we enrolled you in her classroom, Rachel went ahead and labelled your coat hook, which made all of the other children very curious. When we finally arrived for your visit, it was practically a mob scene with the other children all wanting to meet you at once. Dad and I went over some paperwork with the director while you were visiting, saw the parent resource center, and found our "mailbox." You and Rachel seemed to have a good visit; she feels that you'll make a fine transition into the classroom. In one way, she already knows you pretty well--she labelled your coat hook with your name and with a picture of a puffer fish.
One of the boys in the class who came over as soon as we walked in asked me how old you were. I said you would be three in February. He said he would be five soon. I looked at him, trying to imagine you as tall as he was, and it was hard to imagine. Then last night, Dad and I were watching Grandpa Lam's movies of you from your birthday this year, and it's amazing how much you've changed. On your birthday in Feb, you signed "more" to say that you wanted to blow out the candles again. On Grandpa's birthday last month, you said, "Do it again!" loud and clear. Amazing.
Dad and I also managed to finally get our wills signed and witnessed. It's always morbid to think about yourself dying, but it's also a really important part about planning for your inevitable future. Dad and I have had a lot of discussions about what might happen if one of us died, and some of them were actually serious. I mean, I'm sure at least half of them were serious.
Wills are important when you're talking about financial and legal arrangements. What they don't address is an emotional legacy, which I think is equally important. Nobody will ever love you as much or in the same way that your dad and I do, and I hope that you never question that. But there are many people in your life who would give you support if you need it. Your grandparents and your aunts and uncles will always listen, and they will always have your best interests at heart. You can reach out to our extended families, to your great-aunts and -uncles. You can even talk to someone outside the family, like Aunt Tabetha or Uncle Jesse, or the Chapmans. Life can be complicated, and decisions can be hard. It's important to get good advice from people that you can trust. And really, that's just as true with Dad and I living. There might come a time when you want advice from someone who isn't your parents, and that's okay. Although, if Uncle Jesse's advice contains the instructions, "OK, now you're ready to pour in the liquid nitrogen," you'd better be calling from somebody else's kitchen.
Love, Mom
Mom's getting fat: Puffer fish! Your train brought Christmas trees to the little city:
Cake before dinner!
After dinner drawing. I would like to point out the zeppelin in flames, drawn next to the box of crayons. You requested a drawing of the Hindenberg, and then you were so disappointed in what Dad drew that you went upstairs and got the book which had the actual photo of the Hindenberg, so that Dad could draw it the right way. Oh, the humanity!
Cake before dinner!
After dinner drawing. I would like to point out the zeppelin in flames, drawn next to the box of crayons. You requested a drawing of the Hindenberg, and then you were so disappointed in what Dad drew that you went upstairs and got the book which had the actual photo of the Hindenberg, so that Dad could draw it the right way. Oh, the humanity!
