You are now 25 months old. In the real world (that strange place outside of this blog) I no longer have to refer to your age in months. I think that two years is the universal age when you can stop the “he’stwentymonthstwoweeksandthreedays” insanity. We’ve graduated to half years now. However, in this blog world, you will be 192 months old when you get your driver’s license.
Speaking of stats….you sir, are 31 pounds of Pure Awesomeness.
You get your concentration and good-natured attitude from your dad. But your personality, whooooo boy! Little Bear, you have my personality MULTIPLIED BY SEVENTEEN. And I hope you never learn to dampen that personality and enthusiasm just to fit in.
Your current exuberance is like me when I’m over-caffeinated, energized about a project and walking into Caffe Mela to get even more coffee. No filter, and everything is REALLY EXCITING. The people who run in to me then get the true Molly. I hope you remain unfiltered and true. You have an amazing spirit, a contagious grin and just being yourself is the way to go because you’re the best at being YOU.
After much discussion and deliberation, we have decided that your personality – your MOJO if you will – may indeed be housed in your hair. So your dad and I have decided to hold off on cutting it. Yes, I put it in a ponytail and you looked like a darling little girl, but I didn’t care. Your dad didn’t even mind. Well, he cringed a bit but he didn’t go running for the scissors.
Your mojo is too important to just chop off. It lights up people’s live and I just can’t take that away from your fans. It’s like taking away Steven Tyler’s microphone scarves, Angus Young’s short pants, or Eddie Vedder’s red, black and white guitar. NOT OK.
This past month you’ve spent a lot of time up at the property. You’re actually very helpful and have joined in the traditional family pastime of picking up rocks. Congratulations, you’re officially a Steere. You had a cool birthday party, played with friends, went to the fair and watched a Wenatchee Wild hockey game. You also can count to ten and freak me out by blurting out 7- to 8-word sentences.
When I drop you off at daycare on Mondays and Wednesdays, you march up the path ahead of me giving business-like waves to the other parents, as if you’re their boss and you’re heading in to check on their work. It makes me laugh every time.
Little Bear, you keep us laughing (and sometimes yelling) on a daily basis. We love you so much. It’s a blessing to watch you grow up and grow into that ginormous personality of yours. Each day is an incredible gift. Thank you.