two

First thing birthday morning

It had been a long time since we’d gotten down to the very bottom of the laundry basket, and when David finally managed it this weekend, he found not just all of Alice’s missing socks, but some sweetly undersized Onesies.

“This fit her a few months ago,” he said, holding one of them folded in his palm.

“No way.”

Then he showed me the tag.

January 2011

A year ago today, she could not walk on her own. And now when she walks, she refuses to hold my hand.

February

“By myself,” she insists down the front porch steps.

March

She zips her jacket by herself.

April

She eats her breakfast by herself.

May

She chooses her bedtime stories by herself.

June

(She does not go to bed by herself).

July

Two days ago, I picked her up from day care, carried her to the car, set her in the carseat and fastened the straps.

“Alice mad,” she snarled after I had buckled my own seatbelt.

August

“Alice is mad? Oh man. Why?”

September

“Do it mySELF.”

October

The intervals change so subtly, sometimes, you hardly recognize the differences between them: It’s impossible to pinpoint the moments when
loose becomes fits becomes snug becomes outgrown. And, really, you wouldn’t think to.  You notice only after it’s happened.

For example, I have never felt so grown up as when I found myself trying to sneak her kids-meal toy into the trashcan a couple of weeks ago.

November

And yet, there are other times when it’s sudden and startling. She falls asleep a baby and wakes up a little girl, with not just new words, but whole sentences and songs.

December

The split second.

January 25, 2012

P.S. Today was Alice’s first time in the 2-year-olds classroom at day care. Packing her lunch this morning, I was unsure of what the food-storage situation would be in there (I know), so I  started labeling her whole lunch with the DYMO LetraTag. I mean, all the components. As I was doing it, I was thinking how weird and sort of embarrassing it was. But I felt compelled to press on. I am confident no one mistook her quesadilla for theirs, although I stopped short of labeling the actual tortilla.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s