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:
