Last year you were the baby Buddha for Halloween and it was my intention that you would be a whirling dervish for Halloween this year (I am concerned that we stay with the world religions theme we started last year). We actually did teach you to spin around a few weeks before Halloween but I couldn't get my act together on an outfit in time. And honestly, if people thought you were Ms. Muffet last year was there any hope they would get a whirling dervish this year? I think not.
In the month since Halloween, however, you have perfected the skill of whirling to the point it seems a shame that Halloween doesn't fall in December. I think we could win an award for best costume. Some nights you just twirl and twirl for twirl until the spinning in your head gets the best of you and your crumple to the floor laughing so hard you get the hiccups.
You have become a force--a whirling, tornado like force that keeps us all on our toes. As I sit in the living room this afternoon I am completely surrounded by bits of your creative storm. Paper and pens, books, empty boxes, clothes we had set aside to give to Goodwill, cords and other unsafe object are scattered across the floor. In the bathroom there are bits of toilet paper you dipped in Peanut's water hardening on the floor and your wet washcloth drips on the floor mat. Downstairs numerous Christmas tree ornaments have found their way to the trashcan and Momma G's room. Your oatmeal is under the chair in the breakfast room and a wasabi pea--inexplicably one of your favorite snack foods -- just fell out of my shirt. I have put you down for an early nap today in the hopes that I might get some of this put away before anyone comes home.
It seems silly that I haven't written more about all your new tricks but honestly, they are coming almost too fast to document. Language is such fun for you right now and you try to repeat anything we say. Finally, it seems like you know who Momma and Poppa are (of course I don't get tired of hearing you say these words) and sometimes I turn on the monitor and listen to your private conversations just before you go down for a nap because the sound of your voice almost bring me to tears.
Of course, the thought of scraping hardened toilet paper and oatmeal off the floor also makes me want to cry. So while you sleep, my little tornado force toddler, I'll try to get the world set back on it's end again. Then, when you wake up, we can have fun knocking off together.
