I asked Willy the other day for photo shoot ideas for this post. Being that it is Hooper’s 21 month roundup, he suggested photographing Hooper with a booze can. Actually, I believe his vision included Hooper lying in bed surrounded by beer cans. I’m all for humor, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around that one. So I thought, what’s the toddler booze equivalent? And the answer became suddenly clear: ice cream. It just so happened that the evening before I snapped these photos, the ice cream man had come parading down our street with tunes of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” blaring from the speakers. It also just so happened that we were playing in the front yard and thus heard him coming. So yeah, it was meant to be. The photo above also serves as proof it was meant to be. I mean check out Hooper’s expression. If I could read his thoughts, I’m pretty sure he was thinking: “uhhhh, mom? Why are you letting the creepy guy in the molester van hold me?”. This might be my favorite picture to date. 

Growth: You’re wearing 2T in pajamas and pants, mostly because you’re so long. You can still wear 18 month shorts though because you have a tiny waist. Shoes are size 6, diapers size 4. We comment almost daily about how big you are getting. Your brother’s arrival helped to shed light on just how much you’ve grown since birth. 

Feeding: You had a cold and/or allergies this month and there were a couple of days where it seemed as though you ate nothing at all. But alas, you got back on track. I try my best to concentrate on what you eat over the period of a week instead of a day, as there are days you eat great and other days you seemingly don’t eat at all. You are still not motivated by food and getting you to feed yourself is a struggle. It’s my goal, as of late, to help you become more of an independent eater. My role in that is trusting you to eat when your hungry and stop when you’re full. It’s easier said than done because you don’t eat much on your own. The majority of food that lands in your belly is compliments of your crazy mama chasing you around with a spoon. 

Development: You love to mimic things we do around the house. This includes cleaning. You like to make your own mess and then grab a paper towel, or just your hand, to wipe it up. You also like to bring your Papa a bottle of lotion and pretend to rub the lotion on his tattooes. You’re fond of a little game Papa came up with called “Put your nose to the wall”, only it’s not really a game, per say. Papa instructs you to put your nose on the wall and you obediently listen and then we laugh and the game is over.

We’ve seen the beginnings of your tantrum phase. It happens when you don’t get something you want. The other morning, I opened the freezer to get something and you pulled out the ice cream. When I told you you could not have it, you squatted down to the floor and slapped your hands on the floor and fake cried hysterically. You think you’re making a point, but you’re really just humoring us. You can’t have ice cream for breakfast, the first of many hard lessons you’ll learn in life.

I still take you to your gym class and you are still shy around the other children. You seem to warm up to adults and older children well, but become timid around children your own age. For the monster you are at home, it’s quite a change to see you so reserved.

We’ve started ten second time outs. Your Papa takes you over to the corner, makes you look him in the eye, and counts to ten. You were taken to that corner many times in the two weeks your Papa was off from work (mostly for hitting or being a pest at the table).

You went pee in your potty. Once. Not sure if it was a fluke, but we celebrated anyway. I think you were a bit unsure why there was a cookie in your hand. But whatever the case may be, we’re getting closer.

You give Eskimo kisses. You’ve also learned to give decent regular kisses, complete with a pucker and a “muah”, which sure beats the previous open mouth slobber. You also know the meaning of “ear muffs” and proceed to cover your ears with your hands when prompted to. You do both the “grandfather” and “peg leg” walk. The former is when you walk with your legs so bent your bottom is practically touching the floor. You look like a hunched over grandpa, hence the name. The latter is when you walk with one leg completely straight causing this awkward limp. Almost daily, during your witching hour, you spin around in circles and stumble around like that smelly man in the back of the 7-11. 

Sleeping: You went through a regression in sleep while I was in the hospital. Your schedule was thrown off a bit with all the chaos and there were a few days where you consecutively did not or would not nap. Soon after I came back from the hospital, we got you back on track only you had problems taking naps in your bed. We’d find you in the corner going through your books or on top of your chair turning the light on and off. We put the play pen in your room and you’ve been taking your naps in there and sleeping through the night in your bed. Little by little, I hope we’ll get back to normalcy. Currently you’re taking your morning nap in the play pen, but protest at times. Some days you don’t actually fall asleep until a few hours after being put down initially. Your afternoon nap has been hit or miss, much to my dismay. Mama needs you to nap 🙂

Talking: You’re making more of an effort to string words together, only none of it makes sense. It’s all gibber jabber combined with a point in some direction or a raise of eyebrows. Clearly, it all makes sense to you. We’re still waiting to learn your language, though majority of the time you’re able to make your wishes quite well known. You refer to farts as “doo-doo” and poops as “ca-ca”. Your Papa thinks it’s funny to fart near your face and have you call him out on the “doo doo” he makes. I guess, technically speaking, your first sentence was, “doo-doo, Papa”, complete with a point in your Papa’s direction. There’s no sneaking farts past you. You are the little fart policeman. I guess this is a good time to mention that you are afraid of the whoopie cushion. Deathly afraid. We bought it hoping it would produce more “doo-doo” alerts, but instead you shake and cry in fear… which is also entertaining from time to time.

You also say “maaaaaaa-ma” (just like someone would say “you’re craaaaaaa-zy”) when I’m tickling you or being ridiculously funny cuz, well you know, you’re mama is ridiculously funny.

You also learned that a chicken says “cock-a-doodle-doo”, even though it’s technically the sound a rooster makes… but, whatever, we’ll m

Favorites: You love your toy cars. We went to Target the other day and made the mistake of letting you pick out a car. It was a mistake because of the tantrum that ensued. You really need to learn the concept of waiting. Maybe it was our fault for showing you the car before purchasing it, but you have to learn one way or another. It was the worst blow up yet.

You’re still fond of organizing. When we go to the beach, you like to collect rocks and organize them into different pales over and over again. Your Auntie Kim calls you industrious, I call you obsessive. There is a small rock pile outside our front door too.

You enjoy coloring. The crayon covered little table serves as proof. I worry for our white walls. You seem to be left handed, as you use your left hand to color the majority of the time. You switch off hands when eating. Other favorites include your blanket, pen and paper (“pay-pee”), the guitar (aka, “tar!”), filling Sarah’s bowl with dog food and your brother.

On Being a Big Brother: The highlight of my first day home from the hospital was when you tried to share your raisins with Van. The downfall was when you fell and bumped your head on the furniture and I had no way of consoling you while I fed Van and sat on my swollen bottom. There were a few days of adjustment in the beginning and you hit Van a couple of times. After the second week, I don’t think you had any recollection of life without your brother. Today, you love holding him and hugging him and saying “hi-yee” to him. You give Van the best puckered kisses too. You’re Papa and I are jealous. It’s a beautiful thing.

Growth & Appearance: The inevitable has finally taken place. I convinced your Papa to trim your hair. And by trim I mean you no longer have a mullet. It didn’t happen at all how I expected it to. To be honest, I imagined your first haircut to be in a barber shop geared toward kids where you sat in an elevated car and got a sucker of some sort when you were done. Instead, it happened at the kitchen table, during dinner, in the dark. It was dark because we had not yet finished the electrical part of the kitchen. I asked your Papa if I should grab a flashlight or something. He said no. He cut your hair. And that’s the story of your first haircut. The trimmings are in your baby book. You can thank me later for getting rid of what was destined to be a mullet. 

Feeding: I hate this category. I feel like I’m always whining and complaining about what a terror you are to feed. And I don’t really have anything different to report. You’re difficult to feed. You even chew the food you like slow. You do seem to eat better in your car seat or stroller and quite often, as a last resort, we feed you on the way home from wherever we are. You’re just not interested in food, which is clearly why we seem to have to strap you down to get you to eat anything substantial. You eat to live, you certainly don’t live to eat. You’ve recently tried bacon for the first time and you love it. You are a carbon copy of me when it comes to food. You surprisingly, however, do not like pancakes. Scrambled eggs with cheese are still a favorite, along with grilled cheese sandwiches, bagels with cream cheese, yogurt, fruits (specifically berries), mac n’ cheese, ground beef with cheese, chicken with pesto, and chicken nuggets. I’m back to giving you a puree of fruits and veggies mixed with your yogurt because you’ve been such a picky eater as of late. You’re such a typical toddler. 

Talking: Whereas everything was “wewwow” (aka yellow) last month, this month you have added “boo” (aka blue) into your color palette. “Added” is not really the right word because what you’ve done is basically replace “wewwow” with “boo”. In fact, yellow does not even exist anymore. Everything is “boo” (aka blue). When we ask you what your name is, you reply with, “Me”. You’ve caught on to saying “peace” (aka please) when you want something. It’s hard to turn you down when you’re being so polite. Papa has taught you how to say the number “two”, which you pronounce “tchoo” through very pursed lips. Just as any question that begins with “what color…” ends with the answer “boo”, the answer to any questions beginning with “how many…” is now always “tchoo”. It doesn’t matter if we hold up two or five fingers, the answer is “tchoo”. “Hi-yee” and “By-yee” have to be my favorite words of yours.

Sleeping: You are back to your two naps a day schedule and are sleeping perfectly in your double bed. You sleep about 11 hours at night and total anywhere from 4 to even 6 hours of shut eye during the day. We put you in bed around 9:30 pm and you wake sometime around 8:30am. You go back down for a nap around 11am and sleep until 2 or even 3 in the afternoon. Believe it or not, you’ll go down for another nap around 5pm and sleep for another hour in a half or two. If you’re doing the math, that means you are only awake for 8 to 9 hours, but rest assured, you earn your naps in that time span. Of those 8 to 9 hours, probably 4 of them are spent trying to shove food in your mouth. The other day I heard you playing with your monitor after I put you down for a nap. I went in the room to redirect you to sleep and you very endearingly patted the pillow next to you and said, “mama, mama”, directing me to lay down next to you. How could I refuse? We cuddled for about ten minutes, you, me, and little Van swimming around in my belly. I felt whole and complete and so proud to be the one you call mama. You sure are a sweet little boy.

Development: Your game of peek-a-boo has transformed into hide and seek. You’re destined to be the kid reaching into the cookie jar thinking we don’t see you because your eyes are shut. Nothing brings you more joy than popping out from behind a chair or from behind your blanket and unveiling your “hiding” space.

You’ve become a much better listener and are able to hold my hand in public places. It depends, of course, where we are going. If you’re going to be a bull in a China shop, then I still have to put you in the stroller. I brought you into the post office the other day and you stood by my side and held my hand. I’m hoping this good behavior continues.

You can be quite bossy. The other day you ordered me to open the broom cabinet, then you proceeded to take out the broom, bring it over to me and pull my hand to the hallway where you patted the ground instructing me to sweep the floor. You’re very persistent.

We’ve cracked down on hitting. You don’t do it too often, but every now and again you’ll smack Sarah or pinch her fur. Luckily your dog is incredibly loving and patient, but any other dog would snap back in a second. I’ve also witnessed you hit other children from time to time. Usually it’s in a playful way, but not always. We’ve been diligently scolding you, waiting for the day you have enough brain cells to comprehend the fact you can go around smacking animals or people.

Oh yes, and you are able to undo your car seat latch across your chest. We’ve started the “Click it or ticket” campaign to no avail. Screw Graco for making a product a 20 month old can easily manipulate. 

Favorites: You’re still into your playskool giraffe, keys, cars, trucks… things that move or facilitate movement. You’re also still into Yo Gabba Gabba, but the obsession seems to be lessening (my fingers are crossed tightly). You love putting keys into locks and quarters into piggy banks.  You’re also gaining interest in puzzles. We bought you a mini guitar as well, which you thoroughly enjoy. One step closer to being a rock star.

Upcoming: It’s almost big brother time. Time to show Van the ropes. Also, it BIG news, you made a small tinkle on your potty last night. It was your first real attempt. You managed to muster out a small droplet of piss and we celebrated with a cookie. Papa’s now motivated to try it over and over. In fact, he just sat you back down on the potty and you squeezed a fart out. We’re so proud.