Dear Maia,

This has been a crazy busy month for all of us.  The weather’s begun to look and feel like spring, and we have been making the most of it.  I’m constantly struck by how different — and wonderful — this year is as opposed to last; last year at this time you couldn’t even roll over, and now you can practically outrun me.  It’s amazing.  You’re amazing.

You and Dada are pretty dear friends these days, even if you still come to me for comfort most of the time.  You two are forever hanging out together…

… while I snap pictures, wondering how I got so lucky as to have such amazing people in my life.

You know “yes” and “no”, nodding or shaking your head vigorously when appropriate, as well as “hi” and “bye”, although you basically HATE the second word because it generally means I’m heading off to work.  There are so many times this month where I’ve thought, we understand each other now! I’ve thought that you and I are on the same wavelength and that we communicate very effectively with one another.

But then you’ll freak out the way you’ve been doing lately, where all you do is scream and cry as if you’re being drawn and quartered, your fingers gripping my leg or arm or (this is the worst) my chest as you simply wail, and there is no placating the beast that has possessed you.  It’s a little bit annoying, Maia, I’m not gonna lie.  Sometimes when you get like that, your dad and I wonder if we can trade you in and get our happy baby back, thank you very much.  To be honest, I think you’re getting frustrated that you can’t communicate with us more; I think you have a lot to say that you don’t yet understand how to give voice to.  I can understand how that’d be infuriating.

The good news is, most of the time, you’re happy.  I know I’m supposedly biased, but I’m pretty sure that you have the best smile in the world.

One of the greatest things that happened this month was totally unintentional.  I sat at my computer, eating a sandwich and an apple; you ran over, took the apple off my plate, and next thing I know you were doing this:

I laugh every single time I see this picture.  You were so into that apple that it was just amazing, and when I tried to turn it so you wouldn’t bite into the core, you threw an absolute fit.  I wasn’t trying to steal it, I promise!  I just didn’t want you to eat seeds.  Lesson learned.  I now cut the core out before I give you the apple.

Your independent streak is, as you can tell, still going strong.  Mama’s great for comfort, but when we’re out and about, you want desperately to be one of the big kids.  Your entire face lights up when you see other children walking around, and I can’t count the number of times you’ve gone racing off after one.

You’ve learned how to give kisses, and you love it.  You kiss dada, me, the dogs, yourself in the mirror, yourself on the iPod, your stuffed animals… anything and everything that makes you happy, you can be caught kissing.  If I purse my lips and go “mmmmm”, you lean forward and press your mouth to mine, avoiding looking in my eyes as though you’re a shy baby, and give me kiss upon kiss.  It’s awesome.

I’m pretty sure you’re also going to give me gray hair and ulcers and strong leg muscles from chasing you all over the place as you grow up.  To this I say, bring it on. I’m ready to take on the world with you.

We love you, papaya.

Love,
Mama & Dada.