Lion and Magic Boy

Dear Eric,

In about a month, you’ll be three. It’s hard to believe some of the changes you’ve made, and I must say, I’m quite impressed.

I had no idea, for instance, that you’d become so fascinated with Mickey’s water bowl. You have floated stacking plastic cups in it, dragged the kitchen towel into it, thrown a ball repeatedly into it, and submerged most of yourself in it. Twice. In one day.

Nor did I dream that you’d become quite so facile so quickly at managing the steps. Your brother and sister have learned to quickly run up and close their bedroom doors when they hear you clomping up the steps, right knee up, both arms pull, next step, right knee up, both arms pull. They know that Eric Is On The Loose and there’s no stopping you from pulling books off their shelves, unearthing contents of wastebaskets, and discovering all sorts of chokable treasures in their rooms if you gain access.

Not to be daunted by this, if you come across a closed door and you know that someone is on the other side, you are not too proud to throw yourself on your belly and peer under the door to see what’s going on. Yesterday this became a game as you slid a wayward cassette tape under the bathroom door repeatedly as I slid it back.

Going down the steps again is no problem, as you simply slide slowly, a semi-controlled fall, on your belly down, and down, and down. Rug burn? No problem.

You have learned to imperiously sign “pancake” repeatedly until you get your wish, two piping-hot leftover pancakes (we make extra specifically for this purpose) delivered to you on your own little plate. When finished, you helpfully slide the plate on to the table from your perch on your high chair, demanding a refill at the same time.

Experiments with standing have led you, so far, to almost stand alone, letting go for a split second for the first time day before yesterday. It surprised and unsettled you that you could do this, but I know it won’t be long.

Another favorite pastime is opening the pantry and removing a one-serving container of applesauce, as well as, inexplicably, a jar of kelp powder, and taking them around the house. The applesauce I get, but why kelp? Are you mineral-deficient?

We realize that that container of 100 small block cubes is lots of fun, mainly for throwing two by two into the foyer, but must you?

Don’t change, Eric, though I know you will. What I mean is, I love that you are you. You frankly don’t care much about imitating others unless it suits your own purposes or amuses you. I love that so many things amuse you, and I haven’t more than a passing clue what the entire list is. I just know that I love being awakened at 6:30 every morning by the sound of you chortling at some private joke in the corner in your crib.

Thanks for waking up every day laughing.

Love,

Mama