Dog!

Matt sees a dog.

Matt: Edgar!
Me: No, Matt. Thats not an Edgar. It's a dog.

Which makes me wonder, maybe this ghost friend of his IS a dog?

Me: Matt, say DOG!
Matt: Hahahaaaaaaaaa

Which is his happy sounds to when he sees a dog.

Me: No, Matt. DOG
Matt: Dahahaaaaaaa
Me: Yes! Almost there! DOG! DOG! DOOOOOOOGGGG!
Matt: Dahahaaaaaaaaawg
Me: That's it! DOG!

Matt smiles.

We look at the dog.

Me: See? It's a DOG!
Matt: EDGAR!!

Dear Matt

I write letters to Matt since before he was born and place them in his baby book.

Dear Matt, 

Today is June 5th, 2013. You are 16 months old. 

We just got back from the park, where you had a lot of fun trying to bury mommy's legs on the sand and throwing your sand toys up on the playground slide to watch them tumble down. You laugh out loud at it and your contagious laugh makes people walking their dogs on the street stop and watch. You are that charismatic. At the park you also like bringing mommy small gifts, like snails, cigarette butts and rocks. Mommy has to say thank you and look excited, otherwise you frown at her. 

You have a great sense of humor and think anything is funny. You're so silly. And a little weird. You're so weird sometimes.

You enjoy covering your face with your sleep sack and move about the house like a ghost. Sometimes you run into walls and hurt your nose and cry. Sometimes you walk with your arms extended in front of you, as to avoid hitting said nose, and when you touch anything, you laugh out of control under the sheet. Sometimes you carry your toy cell phone under the sheet and make phone calls. 

You like moving furniture and tipping chairs over. Your specialty is getting on your hands and knees and pushing the heavy ottoman with your head across the living room. You are extremely strong for a baby. 

Mommy is trying to break your pacifier habit, but every time she turns around, you have one in your mouth. She found a stack of them inside one of your toys. You also like to bury them in the mulch out in the yard. Then you can't find them and come crying, or you find one and put it in your mouth and cry because you just swallowed a bunch of dirt.

When mommy is pissed because you drive her nuts sometimes, you clap your hands because you know you're cute when you do that, and you try to shove a pacifier in her mouth, as if to say, "there there, fussy mommy, take a paci and chill out."

You love sprinklers. They make you so happy when they come out that you scream.

You love nuggets. You can eat six in a roll.

You talk on your sleep. Sometimes you laugh. Mommy wonders whats so funny in the dream.

Your daddy is in Afghanistan fighting bad guys. He says it's really hot over there, they don't have beer and the bad guys don't let him sleep, so it doesn't sound like a fun place. You miss him a lot because you say, "Daddyyyyyyy!" when he appears on Skype and you try to touch his face, and also look for him behind the iPad.

You say "Daddyyyyy" sometimes in the morning, as soon as you wake up. When mommy goes to get you, you shake your head no, as if to say, "Not you, mommy. You suck. Where's dad?"

You like stuffing your face inside a bucket and make funny noises, just to hear your voice echo, like a microphone. You learned that from grandma because she is a not right in the head either.

Mommy lets you hang out naked at the end of the day because it's fun, and also because you need to get potty trained soon. You have discovered your wee wee and have been sort of obsessed with it. You squeeze it, pull it, flop it, and giggle at it. You're such a guy.

You are also obsessed with mommy's belly button. You lift her shirt and press her outie. Then mommy laughs, because it's ticklish, and you laugh too, then you press it again and you both laugh. 

Mommy is five months pregnant with your brother. That's why she has an outie. Your brother doesn't have a name yet, but since you keep saying Edgar, we are calling him that for now. Edgar seems to like donuts, grilled cheese sandwiches and anything with mayo.

Your hair is dirty blond and very curly. It's a hot mess. Nothing mommy does tames it. You have your daddy's large back and cannot fit in 18 month clothes anymore. When mommy tries, it's like stuffing a sausage in a casing. You're very wide.

Your feet stink after you wear shoes for as little as an hour. We don't know why. Doctor says some boys just have stinky feet because they sweat more. Yay me.

You are always filthy. You DIVE on dirt and sand as soon as you see it.

You chewed so much on your crib that it looks like a rodent got to it. Last week you fell asleep with your mouth wrapped around the railing. 

Your idea of fun is throwing your toys really hard on the floor to see what kind of noise they will make when they break and you really really really like to RUN while screaming with happiness; sometimes with your arms up in the air. When mommy takes you out to the beach, she needs to chase after you for more than a mile, and ends up spilling her coffee all over herself. She may get you one of those kid leashes.

Mommy took you to a far away petting zoo recently, but you could care less about the llamas and bunnies. You were more interested in throwing hay up in the air and running around.

All in all, you are mommy's best company for those lonely times while daddy is not here. You know mommy's ticklish spots and we you get the giggles together a lot. It's never a dull moment.

Love,

Your mommy

Bubbles

I brought out soap to make bubbles for a hyper, and perennially filthy boy (why didn't I think of this before?) and watching him chasing after the bubbles and just marveled by them is one of the sweetest, most innocent things I've ever seen (which seconds his playing with his wee wee and giggling at it, but that's pg).

I also love the way he looks at me, amazed, while the bubbles form. I like to imagine that in his baby mind he is thinking, "wow! Momma is not only awesome, she also makes bubbles!"