Letter to my Goldilocks: 26 and 27 months.
October 25, 2011

Hey Sweetheart,

The past two months with you have been golden, in large part because you have undergone an enormous intellectual growth spurt.  Your personality, your communication skills, your ability to reason through problems, your comprehension of the world around you, your engagement in make-believe play – it’s all come together in big ways this month.

This is SO COOL.  And also THANK GOODNESS because those frustrated tantrums every time a puzzle piece didn’t quite fit quite nearly killed me, darling.


The big problem I’ve run into over the past two months is that people…well…they understand you.  You have dozens of nursery rhymes and songs memorized.  Dozens.  And sometimes when something reminds you of one, you just burst into verse right there.  A recital of Hiawatha’s Childhood, all five verses of Big Rock Candy Mountain, pretty much every Grimm’s folktale in existence, seven nursery rhymes in a row – whatever it is, you bust it out, and people understand.  Three or four lines into your masterpiece, they always compliment you and cheer you on.

By the time you’ve finished singing them a few lullabies, regaling them with Exciting! Tales! About your last visit to the grocery! WHICH WAS EXCITING! and telling them all about those bad-ass billy goats gruff, though, they’re looking at me like can’t I please intercede?  All they wanted was to applaud you on Humpty Dumpty and now they’ve spent ten minutes listening to you rattle on about that one time your mother bought carrots.

And I’m pretty much like, HA, this one’s on you, suckers.  Tell me if you find an off button for her.  Because I’d like to use it during mealtimes.

I also finally managed to get you to your two-year doctor’s appointment last month and am pleased to report that you are still 100% awesome.  The doctor said so!  Really!

Or he said you’re growing well and are very tall.  Whatever.  It’s practically the same thing.

You were not very thrilled about the doctor’s office, let me tell you.  The pediatrician recently moved to a new building in a new city, but as soon as you realized where you were you wanted nothing to do with it.  When the doctor came in, the first thing he wanted to do was watch you walk to check out your foot development.  He planned to just have you walk across the room from him to me, but what ended up happening was that when he set you down on the other side of the room you realized that you were only a couple feet away from the door.

You looked at me, gave me this look like “Mom, I love you, but dude you are totally on your own” and then you booked it.  You rushed at the door, pulled the handle down, swung it open, then ran as fast as your little chubby legs could carry you down the hall and out of the office, yelling AHHHHHHH like Tarzan the whole time.

You know what, Charlotte?  Nobody will ever be able to accuse you of being boring.

Around here, fancy dresses are everyday-wear.  I keep them in your make-believe box and you pull them out anytime.  Lacing beads, painting a puppet theater, stamping in the mud with your gumboots.  It’s all about fifty times cuter in a frilly dress.

You have also become unbelievably polite lately.  Don’t get me wrong, you’re still two.  You still interrupt conversations, strip in public, throw tantrums, and shriek in pitches only bats can hear at every available opportunity.  But you also say please and thank you, excuse yourself when you burp or fart, apologize and dole out hugs if you think your actions hurt someone – completely independently.

Sometimes watching you grow up absolutely blows my mind.  You used to be a tiny bundle of digestive processes and then WHAMO!, here you are excusing yourself when you burp.  Every time it happens, I feel a little blown away.  Like: WHOA, I made a person!  A real person!  WHO SAYS EXCUSE ME!

Darling girl, your father and I adore you.  We adore you with every inch of our bodies, every beat of our hearts, every breath in our lungs.

We love you more than bears love honey (and everybody knows that’s an awful lot),
Momma and Daddy

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  1. By Alicia S. on October 25, 2011

    I know I’ve probably said this about a dozen times in the gazillion years I’ve been reading this blog, but these beading pictures are my new ALL time favorites of her.

  2. By on October 25, 2011

    I guess the doctor can stop wondering about her foot development!  Good luck finding that off button.  My wish for the world is that every child were as loved as Charlotte.

  3. By Noelle on October 25, 2011

    You take some of the most wonderful pictures, I’m glad that you enjoy it so much and are willing to share!  Are these just taken on a digital point and shoot?

  4. By on October 25, 2011

    She’s a gem in a world of sandbox kids. We are lucky you want to share her with us.

  5. By Sarah Christensen on October 25, 2011

    Noelle - I have two cameras.  One is an old 6 megapixel point-and-shoot with a faceplate that keeps falling off =P The other is a Canon 50D.  My pictures are usually split pretty evenly between the two but the photos in this post happen to have all been taken with the 50D.  It’s been awhile since I charged the battery for the point-and-shoot!

  6. By Sarah Christensen on October 25, 2011

    Mitzie - Thank you!  What kind words =)

  7. By Sarah on October 25, 2011

    I am deeming tomorrow arts and crafts day. Thanks for the toddler craft inspiration :)


  8. By tara pollard pakosta on October 26, 2011

    it’s amazing to watch them grow!
    I remember so well when my girls were that age, like little sponges soaking up everything we read, sang, heard. I miss those days! We are reading bigger girl books now and I love that, but I will always miss these days of them being toddlers. ENJOY as I know you are!
    she’s wonderfully perfect, I love her!

  9. By on October 29, 2011

    So sweet. I feel the same about my daughter.

  10. By Stephanie on November 01, 2011

    So I’m new to “blogging” and some how came across your page. I just wanted to tell you that I wish I could articulate to my son the love I have for him as well as you do.

    Your daughter seems like an incredible little girl and I look forward to Connor getting to this age. Although he seems to be growing up much faster than I’d like already and he’s only 10 months!





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