You are 20 months and 25 days old today. 20 months, 25 days, and about 101 degrees, unfortunately. You've got a bit of a virus . . . or maybe just a bit of 2 year molar induced angst and woe, as your upper set seem to be breaking through your gums at the moment.
Yesterday, when we were home sick from work, you took to following me around the house at one point shouting "MAMA!!!" every minute or so. I offered you fruit, snacks, water, trains . . . everything I could think of but you shook your little head each time and said "No . . . " After a few minutes, I knelt down and got eye level with you and said "Tell Mommy what you need, Rhys. You can have anything you want." You took my face and cradled it between your two, chubby toddler hands, rested your head on my shoulder and sighed. Just Mama, that's all you wanted . . . and I was so happy to oblige. We spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the sofa together watching cartoons and snuggling.
Your use of sentences has really been blossoming lately. This morning as we tried to wake you for the day you told me "Lay down, Mama . . . do more mana!" (mana is your word for nursing). We've also heard a chorus of "no shoes, Rhys boots!" lately . . . you love your rainboots. Fiercely.
Your interest in trains is also pretty fierce. You love your wooden train set, your stacking trains, a wind up train you got in a kids' meal and the plastic trains we have as bathtub toys. Pretty much anything can pinch hit as a train too: The other day we took you to the Peterson Automotive Museum and, while in the gift shop, you grabbed a bunch of toy cars and lined them up like a train. You had a row of about 10 going when a pair of little girls stooped next to you and asked me "What is he DOING?". I told them you like trains more than cars, and you were pretending the toy cars were trains. They were pretty smitten . . . one of the girls patted you on the head.
You have a pretty stunning effect on little girls. They flock to you on playgrounds and at parks. The older ones want to hold you, lift you or help you down a slide. The younger ones have been known to run up to you out of nowhere and steal a hug. I can't say I blame them . . . you're pretty darn cute. I try not to think too much about the implications your cuteness will have when you reach junior high and high school age . . . hopefully we'll have taught you empathy effectively enough that you won't be too much of a heartbreaker. Not a cruel heartbreaker, at least.
Your current gaggle of girlfriends at daycare are a nice group of girls. This morning, your dad and I thought you were over your cold/virus/teething/whatever and I drove you to daycare and attempted to drop you off. You wouldn't have any of it, you clung to me and cried. I sat down on the step to cuddle you and, before long, I had Aly sitting on our left patting your arm and El-nor sitting on our right starting to cry herself. Empathy shouldn't be that tough to teach, come to think of it . . . you're in with a truly golden group of kids!
You're just the sweetest, smartest, most gorgeous child in the universe, Rhys Owen. That's just all there is too it. I love you more than anything in the world.