While I was getting ready one morning, I handed her a wet wipe to keep her busy. She loves wiping things down and cleaning them. She was in the middle of wiping down her teapot when I told her we were going downstairs. "Let's go, Sloane."
"Waaaait!" She squealed. "I put trash!" She scrunched up the wipe in her hand and then ran to throw it in the trash can. And then yelled, "I'm coming!" as she ran to me.
As we were walking down the stairs, she asked, "Rusty did it?" pointing to the hole in the carpet.
"Yes, rusty did it."
"Where papa go?" she said as soon as we got downstairs. "He's upstairs." I said. "Sleeping?" She asked. "Yeah, sleeping."
"Read it?" she asked holding up a paper brochure from Omaha Steaks. "Yeah, go ahead and read it" I say. "No, Mommy read it. Mommy's turn."
"I wanna do it!" she yelled when I tried to help her peel her banana. And then, "trash" she says as she picks up a peel that fell on the floor and puts it in the trash.
She took pieces of egg on the tray and lined them up in a line. "Look, choo choo train!"
"I want to see zebra!" she said. While eating her breakfast she had noticed a zebra print on my shirt. "Hi zebra! Hi zebra!"
"Mommy, I wanna count." she said, point to the owl feet on her shirt. "Okay, how many feet does owl have?" "One, two ...feet!" she says, counting.
"Morning, Rusty" she said to Rusty when he sauntered downstairs.
After she finished eating, "Here you go, mommy!" she said, handing me her plate.
I took these photos of Sloane last week after the pool and while we were watching Ken play volleyball. This 23 months old, she knows how to play. And I am the luckiest person in the world because right now, I am her favorite playmate. At 23 months old, she is constantly blowing my mind with how much she comprehends, having strong preferences for the clothes she wears, counting to 10, reading letters everywhere she sees them, repeating everything we say, trying hard to tell me about her day, supremely excellent at giving hugs and kisses, recognizing the sounds of piano and violin, using the toilet at daycare, grabbing my hands to check out my nail polish when I've painted them, pointing out that Rusty's food bowl is empty and refilling it, beginning to understand what disobedience is, beginning to love being at the pool, remembering people's names, loving all her animals, trying to copy our workouts in the garage, and constantly delighting her parents with her antics.
That feeling of watching her run to me with her face lit with joy and her fists clenched in excitement, is one I keep trying to stuff into a bottle to keep forever.
This is probably going to be the last month that I'm counting. Don't fret - if you were getting ready to fret - this blog will continue to be inundated with photos and updates about this little one, but once she is two I will abide by the standards of counting by years and telling stories in other formats. I was reflecting on this earlier and telling Ken about it, that this extensive recording and retelling of my pregnancy and Sloane's first years of life was and will continue to be primarily for my sanity and self-discovery, more than for anything else. It's my first time as a mom so I've never encountered a 1 week old, 5 month old, 23 month old as a mom, and my way of dealing with it was and is to write about it. That's how I do! This sort of orderly count and record by month - for both my pregnancy and these more recent two years- always reminded me to keep things in perspective, savor the small stuff and be grateful for the radical revelations of being a mom to this precious being.