Dear Persephone,
You’re walking better than ever, though you still have plenty of spills, including a tumble down the stairs that really scared us. You were frightened too, but you weren’t hurt, and shortly thereafter you forgot all about it. You’re still not scared of the stairs — or anything else, for that matter, which means we have to constantly vigilant so you don’t hurt yourself.
You have certain favorite books now, and you enjoy having them read to you. You will select one, bring it to me, and then turn around and sit in my lap with your back to me, facing forward, waiting for me to read. And you’ll often ask for a repeat performance. A dozen repeats or more.
Last night I discovered you had learned how to bounce a ball. We spent a good amount of time bouncing and rolling a tennis ball back and forth in the hallway. For this game, unlike reading a book, you need to sit facing me. I had to keep turning you around. And eventually I think you got it.
You babble a lot, but you’re still not really talking. A few weeks ago it seemed that you were repeating a few words back, but I haven’t noticed that as much lately. You occasionally utter a few proto-words like “hi and “da.” I wish you’d hurry up. I’m really looking forward to talking to you.
It is with no little trepidation that I share with you a common “joke” of my parents’ generation: You spend the first two years of your child’s life teaching them to walk and talk — and the rest of their life telling them to sit down and shut up … I never understood that attitude and, like you, couldn’t wait for real conversations with my children. I promise you — they will blow your mind… And you really haven’t seen the world until you take a walk with a child leading the way …