13 Months

Dear Lucy,

Today you turn 395 days old. Where has the time gone, little one? Sometime in the last month you decided that you were physically and emotionally your own person. No longer an extension of your mom and dad, but a little girl with your own wants and needs. And what happens if someone does not respond IMMEDIATELY to one of those wants or needs? The screeching…oh, lord, the screeching.

Not really screaming, the screeching is your new protest noise. We should bottle it up and sell it to anti-war activists, because one tenth of a second of this noise would send all pro-war politicians into a state of panic. Lucy, is the screeching really necessary? Last night while I was cleaning up after dinner, you followed your dad onto the porch where you proceeded to knock a box of matchsticks all over the ground. Your dad was on the phone with a friend/client and grabbed you before you could shove 10 matchsticks in your mouth. And then came the screeching. All I could hear over the sound of your agony over not being able to DIGEST MATCHSTICKS was your father telling the other end of the phone, “No, she’s fine. She’s fine. Just angry. No, I don’t need to go. Seriously, she’s fine.” I’m sure his friend thought we were ceremoniously breaking your arms from all of the screeching.

You’ve also developed a very distinct personality, very different from all of the other babies we know that are your age. Man, kid, you’re loud. And boistrous. And hilarious. And loud. Most of the other kids we know spend most of their time with their brows furrowed in intense concentration, silently taking in their environment. You spend your time exploring and knocking stuff over and talking and singing to yourself. You are constantly on the move, constantly testing us. You love to play chase, even though the minute we start to chase you, you fall to the ground and lay flat on your stomach waiting to be tickled. Your laugh is infectious. It’s not the sweet, quiet giggle of a little child, but a deep, belly-laugh that echoes throughout the house.

I hope you always laugh like that, Lucy. I hope no one ever convinces you that you are too loud or too out-going. Or that you need to change who you are because of what others think. I hope you can always be as independent, curious and free-thinking as you are right now. Just slow down a bit with the growing up, because it’s going by way too fast and I need more time to breathe it all in.

Love always,
Mama (or Na Na, as you refuse to call me Mama, even though I’ve heard you say it and I know you can because when I say, “where’s Mama?” you smile coyly and say, “Na Na?” in a sing-song voice and then laugh and run away…stinker)