20 Months

Ahhh, 20 months old. I feel like two years is creeping up on us way too fast. I'm not the mom of a baby anymore, I'm the mom of a little boy. At least for another couple months. Then I'll be the mom of both. And don't even get me started on THAT.

Let's see, where to start? How about with the news that Milo got his very first haircut yesterday? I won't go into details, full story and photos to come shortly, but I will say that I can't believe my hairless baby needed a haircut. They grow up so fast, don't they?

Anyway. Let's talk affection. Milo has taken to kissing my belly and saying "mwah." He's kissing the baby, and it's pretty damn cute. At least it's cute until he winds up basically wiping his nose on my shirt. That's kind of gross. Milo also will give me kisses sometimes when I ask for them, and occasionally just out of the blue. Those surprise kisses are my favorite. He gives excellent hugs, but not typically when asked for a hug. Everything has to be on Milo's terms these days.

Which leads me to temperament. Milo certainly has a mind of his own and wants to make his own decisions. When we're about to go upstairs, he'll turn to me and with arms outstretched, say "Up!" When I say, "Can you say 'please,' Milo?" He'll consider it, then turn around and start to climb the stairs on his own. He'd rather just climb up than say please because he was asked to. However, he will say please—only in sign language—for many things, like a drink of water or more snacks. He doesn't say "thank you" unprompted, but will when asked to say it (most of the time).

Milo has taken to calling everything "mine." My water, my milk, my coat, my socks. He'll screech, "Miiiiinnnne!" if he thinks his property is being threatened. I have a feeling this trait is going to get old really fast over the next couple of months.

One interesting characteristic that has really started to come out in Milo is his fear/dislike of being in trouble or being reprimanded. He doesn't often do things that make us really use our stern voices, but when we do speak sternly to him, he just can't take it. His whole face shows sadness and worry, and he starts bawling. It's obvious that he needs reassurance that we still love him and that he's not bad. It takes him probably five minutes, which is an eternity in toddlerland, to get over it and go back to being happy. And it isn't like we put him in timeout or spank him or yell at him or anything. It's just, you know, using a little firmer tone of voice to explain that what's he's doing is not okay and he should listen to Mommy and Daddy. I think that Andrew and I were both like this as kids, this thing about not wanting to be in trouble. It might make disciplining Milo a relatively easy thing over the long haul. (knock on wood)

Language: more and more two-word phrases, occasionally a three-worder. Lots and lots of lengthy strings of babbling that I just know in his mind is perfectly clear sentences. Unfortunately I can't understand any of it, which can get frustrating for him sometimes. He's started using alternate words for things, like instead of "yes" he'll say "uh-huh" or "mm-hmmm." He learned that turkeys say "gobblegobblegobble" and his little high-pitched voice gobbling is adorable. 

Milo still loves coloring, and he wants us to write "M" all the time. He knows star, circle, R, M, triangle, and square. If you ask him what color it is, everything is green.

He loves listening to music, hearing me and Daddy sing, and dancing. He swings his arms back and forth, sort of bends forward, and stomps his feet. He's an awesome dancer. 

Current favorite books are: When Dinosaurs Came With Everything, aka "Dinesoar;" If You Give a Pig a Party, aka "Oink;" The Little Mouse, The Red Ripe Strawberry, and The Big Hungry Bear, aka "Mouse," and No David, aka "David." There are a few others in rotation, including Elmo's bedtime book and this mediocre ladybug book, but those first few are read every single night by yours truly. Sometimes I hate the monotony of reading the same thing every night, but other times I love the predictability of it all. Milo always says "oh no!" when we learn that the big hungry bear especially likes strawberries that have just been picked. I love that when we get to the page with the T. rex Milo roars and that Milo always giggles when we see the strawberry wearing those silly glasses with the nose and mustache attached, or when we read the last page of No David Milo always wants a hug. I'm sure next month we'll be on to something new, and then I'll be nostalgic for all our current reading routines and traditions.

Milo can reach doorknobs but he can't turn them. He sits on the potty every night before bath and has actually gone peepee in it twice. Both times surprised him. He loves peas and will eat them before touching anything else on his plate. He loves to jump. He loves wrestling with Daddy. He likes to sit on the couch and snuggle next to me and pull a blanket over his lap. He loves his paci but sometimes we make it through all of story time without it. He loves wearing his hat. Putting non-hats on his head and calling them hats is still funny. He learned how to say "cheese" when someone wants to take his picture. He always tries to eat with his fork or spoon before giving up and using his hands. He's getting tall and lean, but he still has his round baby cheeks and his inverted knuckles. He's okay with holding hands now to cross the street or go up or down stairs or sometimes just to walk around.

He doesn't say the words, but I know he loves me. I know because of the way he says "Mommy!" and smiles when he sees me. I know because of the way he blows me kisses when we say goodbye. I know because of the way he lays his head on my shoulder right before bed. I know because of the way he leans on my shoulder and holds onto my hand while I'm reading to him each night, sometimes rubbing my hand with his thumb. And I love him too. More than he will ever possibly know.