Paloma,

A few weeks ago, on a Sunday, you turned thirteen months old.

I didn't write you a letter, but I did think a lot about what I would have written if I were writing a letter. I think I wanted to see what it would be like to not write a letter, to not have something "due" and to not feel pressure to create.

I don't think I liked it much.

Writing letters to you has been become an important part of my mothering of you and so I think I'd like to continue. When a month arrives and I don't feel it anymore, I won't do it anymore.

Fair?



What has struck me hardest this last month is your ability to communicate what you're noticing in the world. I suspected all along that you'd been wide-eyed-ed-ly gathering data about your environment, but now you're able to "tell" me all about what you're seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, observing.

You mostly use ASL that I've slowly (re)acquired and taught you. The words that are most important to you, you pick up quickest.

Outside. That's one you picked up in a second. Going outside is one of your most favorite things ever.

Parents of babes that don't use ASL? I don't get it. They just wait around for verbal communication? That would drive me nuts. I love that we can both observe an airplane overhead and share that observation. Now. Not in two more years when your mouth and toungue finally get their act together and can say, "Airplane."

No thanks, I'd like to be able to use words, now.



Yeah, this has been the month of "now" and "italics." It was April 6 that you were still a baby and April 7 that you became a toddler. That was the day you put "NO!" in to full effect.

I think you were feeling off and so everything was NO.

"Would you like to go outside and play?" "NO."

Hm.

Maybe I should stop asking so many questions. But someone pointed out that if you don't know how to say NO you can't choose.

I'm happy to say I have a toddler that can make decisions.

Carry on.



Happy belated Thirteenth Monthday.

Love,
Mama