Oh sweet River,

I’m your favorite. You’re talking which is probably more of what we should be writing about, but let’s face it….I’m the one writing it and that’s what has my attention these days. You decided to pull a Shep and started calling me “mama” officially on Mother’s Day weekend. I could point to myself and ask who I was and you would respond every now and then correctly, but never did you call me that for attention or use it for what it’s meant to be before now. I hear Mama come out of your mouth and immediately melt. You refer to yourself as “me” and never try saying your name, but I think that kindle sums you up right about now bc everything is MEMEME with you these days.

Shep definitely had his streak, don’t get me wrong, but he also didn’t have a sibling to fight with (you weren’t exactly much to fuss over before you could walk) and he just skipped the “me” “mine” phase. You? Not so much. “me wawa” “me uuuuuuunnnnnn” (my turn) and lots of others. Just last week you saw Aspyn drinking water from her dog bowl and felt the need to announce to the house that the water was, in fact, yours. Like why you even feel the need to take ownership of her nasty dog bowl full of one of your least favorite drinks is beyond us, but you do it with just about everything. I have found that using it against you is helpful with things like getting you dressed and having you taste a bite of something.

Speaking of……SOMEONE PLEASE INFORM YOU THAT FOOD ISNT POISON. Seriously Roo, I’m the easiest going mom when it comes to food and I’m just now to the point where after careful negotiation and sometimes immense tear fests, you will at the very most chew a particle of something outside of the carb or cheese category. It’s to the point that the Dr. asked Daddy during a visit how you ate bc your iron is low. I mean….I have tried every mother voodoo trick in the books and you aren’t fooled. I get entirely too excited if you so much as lick a piece of broccoli and at this rate I’m pooped. I have black bean brownies on the agenda this week and if that doesn’t work I’m throwing in the towel and hooking you up to an IV at night. Don’t hate me when you’re grown and have permanent needle marks on your arms from the forced nutrition.

BOOKS!!!! You’re obsessed. Your favorite is the “roar gook” aka “where the wild things are”. You love to do the silly motions with me that I’ve made up and spot the moon on all of the first pages proudly. You’ve gotten so attached to books lately that for a while there you weren’t crying when I left you bc I let you take a book to bed. You’re not 100% back to crying, but you get a little upset and still need me to talk or sing through the monitor for a bit to keep you from losing your mind. It’s crazy how you never made a peep at bed time until one strange day when everything changed. I’ve decided it’s bc I’m so much darn fun that separation nearly kills you. That’s it isn’t it?

I can’t wait to spend the rest of the twos getting to know you a little more and watching your words become sentences and show us even more of the little spirit inside of you. Thanks for being such a fun adventure. We would have you no other way.

XxMommy