Potty update! The tally has gone from zero to one. One successful plastic potty tinkle, executed after ten minutes of sitting and waiting for something to happen. You stood up and said “I peed!” To which I called over Mom, and we both cheered and hugged like you’d just gotten a full-ride to the Sorbonne. Mom came very close to memorialzing it with a photo, but you’ll be happy to know I wouldn’t let that happen. I tried to imagine if I would ever want to see a picture of my first micturition, and I came up with a decided ‘no’. Hope I guessed that one right.
This month saw lots of advance in your language skills. The most unexpected has to be your realization that Mama and Dada both have other, secret names. One day you just turned to me and said “Hi, Sandy”, as you sported the most sly, mischievous grin on your face. I suppose I should have nipped it right there, but I was too amused. Soon after you learned “Sarah”, and there was no turning back. “Mama” and “Dada” are rarely to be heard these days, as it’s all “Sarah do it!” or “I love you, Sandy.” As someone who grew up calling all his grandparents by their first names, I suppose it’s only fair.
It’s no surprise to find that your voice is taking on a midwestern accent, but it’s sometimes shocking to hear by how much. You draw out your A’s like a state fair carny pulling taffy. That becomes thaaaat and fast turns into fyaaaaast. You can hear it in force as you speed around in your Wishbone bicycle in this video:
Oh, yes, that bicycle. Your loving Gammy got that for you a while ago, and suddenly in the last month it’s finally grabbed your attention. It took you all of a day to figure out the mechanism of foot-pedaling, and then you were off, whooshing down the hall and back again. It’s so fun to watch you zoom down the sidewalk in it, and with three wheels and no pedals, you can spend all your concentration on figuring out how to steer. Learning how to ride a bike came late for me — I was 10 — so it’s especially thrilling to take you on rides and teach you how to do it yourself and watch you love it as much as I do.
Speaking of figuring things out, your aptitude at jigsaw puzzles has turned a corner. To no one’s surprise, I am bursting with pride over this. Seriously, you are good. Over the course of one week you went from needing piece-by-piece guidance, to getting it on your own with some trial-and-error, to getting every piece in on first try. And you’re not afraid to boast it, demanding “all by self” when we try to help out. This news bodes extremely well for my plans to enlist you as my chess/rummy/go/Scrabble partner as soon as possible. I expect you’ll be beating me at all four by this time next year.
In the meanwhile, we’ll stick to our tickle wrestling matches. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say, through giggles and gasps for breath, “Hahaha… Sandy funny.”