cody ☆ cordelia ☆ emma ☆ gabriel: Fall in Love with Emma Elisabeth

Dear Emma,

I'm posting this not because we have been particularly in love with you over these past few weeks, but because hope must always have the last word. You've been giving us a run for our money, dear. You're barely 22 months, but you talk like you're 12, and act like you're…well, two. Two is terrible, they say. You've been whining. Throwing tantrums. Repeating phrases incessantly. Not sleeping well. Generally being your evil twin. Taking your shoes and socks off every.damn.time we get in the car, like Richie Tenenbaum on a really bad day.

You're killing us, kid. The other two are supposed to be the biggest handfuls, but I could always count on my "joy" to give me a break. That plan seems to be on hiatus…and I want you to know that's okay. We love you anyway. We find joy in you. We love that we can have somewhat complex conversations with you, because your speech is ridiculously clear, your vocabulary is vast, and you know exactly what's going on, what you want, and what you find unacceptable. And are not afraid to express it. That's a gift (mostly). We would like you to stop whining, true, and to grow out of the terrible twos before you even TURN two. But we love you, just as you are. And you are so damn cute.

Here you are, shopping with me in the Giant. Granted, this happened after you fussed so much I had to take you out of the seat and let you walk. But then, this:

Here's another shopping trip—you delightedly (and creatively) made a baby seat for Baby Go Go out of the cart cupholder. Well done.

"I want to go on the slide! I will show you how I climb up and slide down!"

Here, "I am riding on my tooter!"

Here you are, eating soup with your hands.

The week before last, you and I popped in at school to accompany Cordelia's class to the pumpkin patch. Your first field trip! You took to it like a pro.

(You wanted All The Pumpkins, Please.)

Here you are, listening the pumpkin songs and looking for all the world like you are ready for preschool.

And here you are, back in the classroom, surveying your environment...

…and making yourself right at home.

Here you are, trying to fit into your little bookshelf.

And here you are in Mrs. Patoka's classroom, having your daily visit with the fish. ("I want to go see the fishes! The blue fishie is sleeping! He is so sweet! I need to kiss him!")

Speaking of kissing, you are really into "dimosaurs." Here's what you told me: "This is my dimosaur! He is so sweet! I love him!" "What is his name?" I asked. Your immediate reply, "His name is Emma! I am kissing him!"

And here you are at bedtime—Mommy's favorite time of day—doing my new favorite thing that you do: you clasp your tiny hands together in prayer and say, "Shall we say Our Father Hail Mary and Angel of God." It's a declaration, not a question. And then we do. And then you drift off to sleep.